


The Last Summer Rain

by Shadowmire



Series: Ancient Winds [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre - Robert's Rebellion, Rains of Castamere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-09 13:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13482039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowmire/pseuds/Shadowmire
Summary: Ten year old Martyn Reyne the 3rd son of Lord Rodger Reyne and his best friend Kevan Lannister find a secret buried below Castamere.





	1. The Sound of Falling Rain

# The Last Summer Rain

### The Sound of Falling Rain

1

The sound laughter and the clash of swords rose from the yard below. Martyn Reyne scowled down at his journal he had written only two lines. Old Maester Avere would never accept just two lines. Martyn looked over at the old Maester who was busy feeding the ravens, throwing large chunks of bloody red meat into their cages. The birds squawked angrily and shook their wings at their benefactor. Martyn smiled, he liked the ravens even thought they were often vicious and loud. Martyn looked back down at his journal and in a flash of inspiration he began to scribble.

> _Maester Avere is an ancient old goat with a long grey beard. He is ghastly thin with dreadfully stooped shoulders, beady, ice blue eyes, and a long goat nose. His long fingernails are sharpened to points that he uses to jab me in the forehead when he disapproves. He disapproves of everything!_

Martyn laughed at his own cleverness. 

Hearing the giggles the Maester looked up from his task, “Almost done?” he asked.

“Done!” Martyn grinned happily, placing the quill back into the well. 

Martyn yawned and stretched as he got up to look out of the window of Maester Avere’s Rookery. In the courtyard below his older brothers, Allyn and Corwyn were sparring. He wished he could be in the yard with them. He liked to watch his brother’s spar and join in their laughter.

While Martyn watched his brothers, he heard the Maester’s chains clink together as the old man shuffled across the chamber. Martyn turned around to see, that look, on the Maester‘s face. The old man then hobbled toward the boy on his skinny little legs and poked Martyn in the forehead with one pointy finger. 

“Training your mind is important,” the Maester, said poking the boy in the chest, “just as important as training your body.” 

Martyn stood still, his hands clasped together behind his back, grinning up at the old man. 

“Go,” the old Maester, said sternly, yet the warm smile betrayed his true nature.

Martyn smiled broadly and ran to the door, shouting, “Thanks, Maester Avere,” as he jumped down the stairs and into the courtyard below. 

Castamere was half-built, half-carved into the mountainside. The façade of the great house carved into the cliff-face, its tall columns and arches rock-cut into the stone. A pair of roaring lions sculpted out of the mountain stood watch over the entrance of the keep. Stone stairs cut into the rock-face led up to the Rookery and Maester Avere’s Chamber. Other stairs lead to corbeled bastions high up on the cliff-face. A curtain wall projected out from the cliff and surrounded Castamere’s small courtyard. 

In the courtyard Martyn’s father, the Red Lion of Castamere, Lord Roger Reyne was talking to Ser Deric Tahbert the castle’s master-at-arms. 

“How does his training go?” Lord Roger asked as he watched as his youngest son run into the courtyard.

“He tries hard,” Ser Deric said shaking his head, “but I’m sorry to say Martyn lacks any natural ability.”

Martyn wasn’t good at fighting it was true. Actually, he was terrible, he could barely hold a sword, and his archery was only a little better. His best weapon was a spear, although it made his brothers laugh and say he wasn’t really a Reyne, but a Dornishman left at their doorstep. He knew they were joking; he had the same bluish grey eyes and dark ash brown hair as all of the Reyne children.

A moment later, Maester Avere joined the two men in the courtyard, 

“A raven, My Lord,” the Maester said handing over a slip of parchment. Lord Roger read the parchment silently; He smiled before handing the message back to the Maester. 

“At least he does well with his studies?” Lord Reyne asked looking at the old Maester. 

“Yes, My Lord,” Maester Avere replied, “Although, his mind is often far away, Martyn would rather explore and discover things for himself, than read about them in dry old parchments.”

“Is the Citadel the right place for him?” Lord Reyne asked the older man with a concerned look. 

The old Maester looked up at the Lord of Castamere and nodded, “It is the only place in Westeros for him.” 

“Well, it’s time for all my children to start thinking about their future,” The Red Lion said, “that raven came from Casterly Rock. In a fortnight Lord Tytos is hosting a grand feast to announce the betrothal of his daughter Genna, most of the Lords in the Westerlands will be there.”

“Allyn?” Asked Ser Deric.

“It’s a good match, My Lord,” Maester Avere nodded, “The only daughter of Casterly Rock to the heir to Castamere. Combining the two strongest houses in the Westerlands will strengthen the whole region.”

“I’ve told that fool Tytos as much,” Lord Reyne said, “let us hope he listened.”

2

Preparations for the journey to Casterly Rock were chaotic. As the house steward barked orders, servants and retainers hurried to load the wagons, including gifts for the betrothed couple. Martyn sat on the steps of the Rookery with Maester Avere, watching the confusion. 

The Maester pointed out different retainers and explained their family histories. This was how Martyn preferred to learn, by seeing things not by reading about them in dusty old books. Martyn looked up at the Maester remembering how he had written some callous things about the old man in his journal. He didn’t mean it of course; the old Maester was one of Martyn’s favorite people in the castle.

“Who are the Lannister children?” Martyn curiously asked the old Maester.

“The oldest is Tywin, he’s the same age as you.” relied Maester Avere, looking down at the child, “The next oldest is Kevan, their only daughter is Genna, who is seven and the little baby is Tygett.” 

“And Genna? She will marry Allyn when they are old enough?” Martyn asked.

“Hopefully, it’s what your father wants,” Maester Avere replied, “but there are many other Lords who have asked Lord Tytos for her hand.”

“Allyn is the best choice.” Martyn said proudly, looking over at Allyn and Corwyn. Martyn’s brothers were near the Gatehouse talking with their uncle, Ser Reynard Reyne. Allyn was almost thirteen, a little short and stocky for his age but he held himself up with the confidence of a future Lord. Corwyn was eleven and already taller than his older brother. Both boys enjoyed teasing their smarter little brother, Martyn knew it was in fun and the older boys never took it too far. 

Maester Avere smiled down at the young boy he knew Martyn thought the world of his older brothers. The old man had taught all the Reyne children. The two older boys didn’t have the same natural intelligence that Martyn processed, but they were not stupid. Allyn was honest and just, someday he would make a fine Lord. 

“Martyn!” The Reyne’s youngest child Avilynn came running up and threw her arms around her brother’s neck, “isn’t it grand?!” She screamed her eyes wide with excitement. 

Avilynn had escaped Septa Alena again. Of all the Reyne children, she was the most adventurous and wild. Martyn pulled her down between Maester Avere and himself so she wouldn’t get in the way of the preparations. 

She took the old man’s hand and asked bluntly, “Why do you have pointy fingers?” 

Martyn winched she really had no tact. Maester Avere merely smiled down at the young girl fondly, messing up her dark hair and causing her to giggle wildly. 

“Why do you keep your fingernails pointy?” Martyn asked he was sure it wasn’t for the sole reason of poking him in the forehead.

“It good for poking unruly children in the forehead,” Maester Avere chuckled before saying, “but, honestly, it’s because it’s easier to take little pieces of parchment off a raven’s foot.”

Martyn smiled and nodded, “oh!”

Suddenly a panicked woman dressed from head to toe in dull grey wool hurried toward them, “Avilynn! There you are!” Septa Alena scolded, “Your mother…Lady Alys is looking for you it’s time to depart.” 

Avilynn looked down, trying her best to fake a guilty expression, “I’m sorry Septa Alena,” she moaned before getting up to take the Septa’s hand. When the little girl turned back to look at them, Maester Avere winked at her. She giggled excitedly holding her hand over her mouth.

Martyn dryly said to the old man, “That just encourages her you know.”

The old man merely shrugged his thin shoulders and smiled mischievously.

As Martyn watched the rush of activity around them, he suddenly felt strange. The courtyard began to weave together. Light and shadow merged into patterns that had not existed before. 

Nearby his Mother and Father were talking with Avilynn, as Lord Roger crouched down to whisper in his young daughter’s ear they appeared to ripple and flow. Across the yard, his brothers and uncle were doing the same. Suddenly everyone in the yard burst open and a torrent of water poured over the yard. As the water flowed away it left devastation in its wake, the gatehouse and towers had collapsed. Everything lay in a state of decay. 

Martyn gasped and a shallow scream escaped his lips. As suddenly as the vision had appeared, it was gone. Martyn had unconsciously reached out and grasped Maester Avere’s arm during the vision, clutching it tightly. He looked up to see the anxiety written on the old man’s face. 

“What did you see?” Maester Avere asked quietly. 

3

When the caravan stopped for the night, Martyn decided he wanted to explore. His father’s pavilion was the largest structure in the camp. Flanking the entrance stood two large white banners, with the red lion sigil of house Reyne. The banners fluttered violently in the wind. 

Martyn wasn’t interested in going in the front entrance. He prided himself on his abilities to sneak past the guards. A light rain had begun to fall making a soft rapping sound on the roof of the pavilion when he slipped around the back of the large tent. Martyn crawled under the tarp, emerging into the pavilion next to his father’s mahogany desk. Large carpets covered the hard ground, making the tent warm and comfortable. Martyn hid under the large desk and looked around for his father. 

The Lord of Castamere sat in an ornate chair on the far side of the large room reading a book. _Pretty boring so far,_ Martyn thought. He was just about to leave and spy on his uncle, Ser Reynald when he heard the guard announce Maester Avere. 

Martyn was curious, he knew that as the Maester of House Reyne, the old man not only taught the children and healed the sick; he was also one of his father’s chief advisors. 

He watched as Maester Avere entered the pavilion. The heavy Maester’s chain slowing the old man down. Martyn was continually amazed at how many links the Maester had in his chain. Each link representing an area of study the man had mastered. 

“Maester Avere,” Lord Reyne said rising from his chair.

The Maester crossed the room his long fingers moving in agitation. 

“You have a concern?” The Red Lion inquired.

“Yes My Lord,” replied the Maester, “about Martyn.”

Martyn was surprised. What concern could the old man have about me? The whole trip was supposed to be about Allyn and the impending betrothal. 

“My Lord,” Maester Avere finally said, “I believe Martyn is a Greenseer.”

Martyn couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew what a Greenseer was, but he was the son of a lord from the civilized Westerlands, not one of the Children of the Forest or some Wildling spawn.

The Red Lion was equally surprised, “Do the Order of Maester’s’ even believe in Greenseers?” he asked.

“Most do not, My Lord,” replied Maester Avere, “but I am a very old man and have seen many things… unexplainable things.”

“What makes you suspect Martyn has these…powers?” asked the Red Lion.

“I have suspected there was something more to young Martyn than just a brilliant mind for some time,” The old man Continued, “he knows details of events from long ago and far away that are not written in any book we have available at Castamere…”

Lightning opened up the dark sky before an ominous silence filled the tent as the old Maester searched for his next words. A second later thunder rolled across the darkened sky. Martyn held his breath so he wouldn’t make a sound as slowly the thunder rumbled to silence once again. Martyn hoped the two men hadn’t noticed his loud gasp when the thunder reverberated through the pavilion.

“…And he has had a vision,” the old man was saying. Maester Avere described the events of the previous day. How Martyn had, frozen dead still for several minutes while his eyes turned from their normal bluish grey to the color of dirty ice.

The Red Lion asked, “What was the vision?”

“The destruction of Castamere,” the old Maester responded.

The Lord of Castamere stood stunned for moment, before finally replying. “Let us keep this to ourselves for the time being, until we can find out more.”

Maester Avere agreed with a nod, before leaving the pavilion.

The rain started to fall like the hooves of a thousand horses over the ceiling of the pavilion. Martyn watched his father for a long while after the old man had left. Lord Reyne suddenly went to his desk and sat down. Martyn squeezed far to the back of the desk, so the Red Lion wouldn’t discover his hiding place. Martyn could hear his father writing. When he had finished, Lord Reyne stamped the letter with his seal and left the tent, sprinting out into the night rain.

The caravan grew larger and even more unwieldy the next day when it merged with another caravan traveling from Tarbeck Hall. Lord Walderan was married to the Lord Roger’s sister Lady Ellyn.

Avilynn squealed in delight when she saw her cousins Rohanna, Cyrelle, and Tion. It appeared as if his whole extended family would arrive at Casterly Rock together. That was until Martyn noticed his uncle; Ser Reynard had left during the night.

4

It wasn’t a long trip to Castely Rock, but the thunderstorm had hindered the pace of slowly moving caravan. Martyn rode in a wagon with Maester Avere for most of the trip. However, on the last leg of the journey Lord Roger had insisted all his sons change into House Reyne regalia and ride together into Casterly Rock on fine dark brown palfreys.

When they arrived in the courtyard, the heir to Casterly Rock, Tywin Lannister greeted them austerely. Tywin was the same age a Martyn, but he was already taller than Allyn and Corwyn. He was a handsome youth with a thick head of golden blond hair and cold green eyes. Martyn looked at the young lord and for some reason he thought back to the vision he had just before leaving Castamere. A chill ran up his spine. 

Young Lord Tywin was their escort into the great hall of Casterly Rock. Nobles from all over the seven kingdoms had already gathered on either side of a long aisle that lead up to a large center dais, where the Lord of Casterly Rock, the Warden of the West, Lord Tytos Lannister greeted them warmly.

Martyn looked at the sigils of the assembled guests; there was the spotted tree-cat of House Myatt, the black and the white boar of House Crakehall, the owls of House Garner, and these were just a few of the noble houses gathered for the event.

A lord with a crooked nose and a sinister stare stood next to an awkward youth a little older than Allyn. Both wore a grey sigil of two blue towers connected by a long bridge. House Frey from the Riverlands, Martyn realized, and the man with the crooked nose must be Lord Walder Frey. _He is far from home,_ Martyn mused.

There were important matters of the realm to discuss before the feast. Lord Tytos said the younger guest might get bored, so he suggested the sons of the assembled nobles go to the training grounds, “to get the measure of each other.”

As they followed Tywin Lannister to the training grounds, Martyn heard the son of Lord Walder Frey complain about having to practice with babies.

Martyn sat on a low fence at the edge of the training yard with another boy who introduced himself as Kevan Lannister. The second son of Lord Tytos had the same thick blond hair and green eyes as his brother. Although, Kevan wasn’t as severe as his older brother. Martyn found it easy to talk to Kevan, the lad was friendly and even-tempered.

Martyn confided to the younger boy he wouldn’t be sparring because he wasn’t any good and all the other boys would laugh. 

“I won’t laugh,” Kevan, promised, “I’m not as good as my brother either, but I do okay.”

“My bothers are really good,” Martyn, said looking proudly over at Allyn and Corwyn who were laughing with their cousin Tion. 

“They don’t seem to be very serious,” Kevan, said looking at Martyn’s brothers, “my brother is always serious.”

Martyn said with a shrug, “They just like having fun.”

Martyn looked over his shoulder and noticed the awkward young man from House Frey was scowling at them as he listened in on their conversation.

Martyn whispered, “Who is that?” motioning to the sullen young man.

“That’s Emmon Frey, the second son of Lord Walder Frey,” Kevan said, “He is one of the lords who have come to ask for my sister’s hand.”

“Him? He seems awfully full of himself.” Martyn laughed, “Living proof that shit can sprout legs and walk.”

Laughing hysterically the boys turned to look back at Emmon Frey, the young man scowled back.

“Well, Allyn’s is brave and strong,” Martyn, said proudly, “Your father should pick him.” Martyn looked over at his older brother who was sparring with Tywin Lannister. The two youths seemed evenly matched. 

“I don’t know who my father will choose,” Kevan said smiling at Martyn, “but I hope he picks your brother then we would be brothers too.”

Martyn smiled, “Yeah, me too.” 

The two boys watched curiously as Corwyn went up to Emmon Frey and asked if he wanted to spar. 

“I don’t fight babies,” Emmon replied boorishly and yawned. Corwyn merely shrugged his shoulders and started to walk away.

Suddenly Emmon Frey seemed to have changed his mind, pointing at Martyn he said. “But I will fight that little smart mouthed girl.”

Corwyn stopped looking back at Emmon in confusion. It wasn’t long before Allyn and Tywin joined the gathering crowd of onlookers. Tywin and Martyn’s brothers scrutinized Emmon Frey. He was at least four years older than Martyn and probably much stronger and he probably had at least some castle training.

“Martyn isn’t a fighter, he is a scholar,” Allyn said, “I would be more of a challenge—”

“No,” Emmon sneered cutting Allyn off, “the girl.”

Martyn had enough of being called a girl and said, “I’ll fight,” Martyn turned to Kevan and asked, “Does your master-at-arms have a sparring spear?”

“I think so,” Kevan said as he jumped off the fence and ran to find the master-at-arms. He returned a few minutes later with a long spear missing the sharpened head. In the meantime, Emmon had picked up a sharpened blade from the sword rack.

Allyn stepped in front of Emmon and said, “You need to use a sparring sword, and Martyn isn’t ready for real weapons.”

“Is he scared?” Emmon laughed, “Don’t worry; I won’t hurt your little sister.

“Stop trying to show off,” Tywin Lannister sneered, “If the boy isn’t ready for sharpened blades, fight someone who is.” Tywin picked up a sword and pointed the sharpened tip at Emmon Frey.

“Just an afraid little girl, huh, he’s not even using a real weapon. A spear? What kind of weapon is that?” Emmon laughed, trying to pretend he hadn’t heard the challenge Tywin Lannister had just given him.

Allyn grabbed Emmon arm turning him around, “fight me then!”

“No it’s the little girl or no one,” he said looking disdainfully at Martyn.

Martyn sighed and walked toward the yard, but Emmon attacked before Martyn had time to get into position. The young scholar still managed to step out of the way. Martyn spun around and knocked Emmon in the middle of his back with a loud thud.

Emmon turned around and swung his blade wildly. Martyn stayed out of the range of the sword. He even managed to get a couple of light taps on Emmon’s arms and legs.

Emmon lunged at him again, but this time Martyn was slightly to slow and the sword cut a long gash in his left arm. Martyn heard his brothers gasp.

Tywin put a hand on Allyn’s arm to stop him from interfering, “let him fight his own battles.”

Martyn looked down as his arm, and then up to the sneering face of Emmon Frey. For the first time in his life, Martyn was truly angry. Martyn eyes darkened, turning completely black. The world slowed down, everyone included Emmon Frey moved in slow motion, as if walking through water. He swung the spear around and knocked Emmon off his feet.

“Get up or yield,” Martyn yelled, walking around the fallen youth. As Emmon struggled to his feet, Martyn swung the spear again strafing the boy’s legs and knocking him on to his back.

Martyn pushed the spear under the older boy’s long nose, “Yield” he yelled looking down at Emmon in contempt.

“I yield” Emmon cried raising his hands.

Martyn returned to the fence where Kevan was watching. The younger boy looked at Martyn and said, “I thought you said you couldn’t fight.”

Martyn laughed, “I can’t, but neither can he.”

5

In the days leading up to the feasts Martyn and Kevan became best friends. The boys had decided to explore every corner of Casterly Rock looking in vain for the hidden passageways that Kevan assured Martyn existed. As they explored near the garden wall the boys heard the sound of giggling. Kevan tapped on Martyn’s shoulder and pointed to an opening in the wall. The boys crawled through the crevasse and slowly crept along the long stonewall.

They soon found the source of the giggling; Martyn’s little sister was playing in the garden with several other young ladies. The girls were laughing and making wreaths from flowers. Martyn felt his heart leap in his chest. The prettiest girl he had ever seen sat on a marble bench surrounded by the other young ladies. She had long golden blond hair, thick eyelashes, and shinning green eyes. She was slender and her face was delicate and kind.

“Is that your sister?” Martyn asked Kevan.

“No, that’s my cousin Joanna,” Kevan said, “My sister is the fat, ugly one over there” 

He pointed at another girl. Genna Lannister was a little plumper than Joanna was, but she wasn’t fat and she wasn’t ugly. She looked very similar to Joanna; she had the same golden blond hair and green eyes. Martyn thought she was also very pretty. However, she wasn’t Joanna.

Suddenly Septa Alena saw the boys hiding by the stonewall and hurried them away. Kevan and Martyn laughed wildly as they ran from the angry Septa.

6

Large crimson banners with the gold lion sigil of House Lannister hung on each wall of Casterly Rock’s Great Hall. Up on the central dais Lord Tytos and Lady Jeyne sat behind a large table along with the heir to Casterly Rock, Tywin and their daughter Genna. The noble lords and ladies crowded around tables as servants wove through the hall with platters with roasted venison and eel and refilling goblets of wine. Martyn sat with Corwyn, and Kevan in the back of the large Great Hall.

They watched with interest as the nobles of the realm gossiped and toasted the good fortune of the seven kingdoms. Corwyn was pointing out particularly funny looking nobles from the crowd and trying to imitate their look and manner. When Corwyn managed to do an especially good imitation of the groveling behavior of Ser Harys of Cornfield, Martyn and Kevan both laughed loudly covering their mouths so their fathers wouldn’t hear.

Martyn spotted his father and Allyn seated at a table in the middle of the large hall. Father and son both wore long dark red cloaks and white surcoats embroidered with the red lion sigil of House Reyne. Martyn smiled and thought that at this moment and time, no one else could possibly look as proud and handsome as his father and older brother.

Closer to the central dais, Lord Walder Frey sat with his son. Emmon was looking around the room anxiously and when he saw Martyn, he scowled. Martyn stood up suddenly fist clenched and glared back. Emmon turned bright red and quickly looked the other way.

On seeing the silent exchange, Corwyn started to laugh loudly and swung his arms around pretending he was holding a spear. Lord Reyne heard his middle son’s loud laughter, looked over, and simply shook his head. Corwyn quieted down, but only temporarily.

Martyn still hadn’t found who he was really looking for. His eyes kept searching the hall until he saw her. Joanna Lannister sat next to his sister Avilynn. Joanna looked especially lovely in a dark green dress fringed with Tyroshi lace. She was even prettier than when Martyn had seen her in the sunlight of the garden. Joanna turned and looked at Martyn. The young girl smiled sweetly and whispered in Avilynn’s ear.

Suddenly Martyn had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching him. Martyn looked around and saw Tywin Lannister’s cold green eyes staring into him. Martyn had to look away from the unsettling gaze.

Finally, the moment came for the announcement of the betrothal. Lord Tytos slowly rose to his feet, giving the guest time to settle down. The room was soon completely quiet.

“We are all here to celebrate the betrothal of my daughter…” Lord Tytos began. The room erupted in cheers and applause.

Martyn looked over at his father and brother, Lord Reyne looked happy and proud, and his brother looked a little mortified. Allyn glanced over at his younger brothers, wishing he were with them, not about to be the center of attention.

“… The joining of two great houses…” Lord Tytos continued,” the betrothal of my daughter Genna Lannister to Emmon Frey of house Frey” Lord Tytos finished.

The room fell silent. Martyn looked over at his father whose face had drained of emotion. The Red Lion was too proud to show any sign of anger; he simply stood silently and walked out of the Great Hall, followed closely by his son and heir.

The deafening silence continued, broken only when a sudden loud laughter echoed through the Great Hall. Martyn looked around to see whom the culprit was, and was stunned to see it was his aunt, Lady Ellyn. After his aunt had broken the silence, everyone started yelling at once and the room erupted in a sea of shouting.

Up on the central dais, Young Tywin Lannister rose to his feet. The uncompromising look in his cold green eyes gave the crowd warning and the hall was soon quiet.

“…This match is a disgrace to the honor of House Lannister…” Tywin was saying venom rising in his voice.

Martyn could hardly believe the young lord was his own age. Martyn couldn’t imagine speaking with such animosity to a room full of adult lords and ladies.

Suddenly Martyn felt a hand fall on his shoulder, startled, he jumped and turned to see Maester Avere.

“Martyn, Corwyn, we are leaving,” he whispered.

Kevan watched as his new best friend left the Great Hall, sadness growing on his young face. He raised his hand to wave, but neither of the Reyne brothers looked back. Kevan knew he might never see his friend Martyn Reyne again.


	2. All Cats are Grey in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevan and Martyn find something interesting below Castamere.

Chapter Two  
All Cats are Grey in the Dark  
1  


“But isn’t Corwyn father’s page?” asked Martyn looking up at Maester Avere. Martyn was too distracted to study the history of the Andal Invasion. He had spent the last hour flipping through the pages of the large book and only looking at the illustrations.

Maester replied, “I believe young Corwyn will be Ser Reynard’s new squire.” 

“And Kevan will be father’s page?” 

“It’s a great honor for House Reyne for the Warden of the West to have chosen your father to begin his son’s training as a knight,” said the old Maester. 

Martyn smiled. After the disastrous events at the feast two months ago at Casterly Rock Martyn was sure he would never see his friend again. His family had left the feast soon after the Lord of Castamere’s son and heir Allyn, was passed over in lieu or Emmon Frey as the betrothed of Kevan’s sister Genna. Now Kevan was coming to live at Castamere as the Red Lion’s page. 

Martyn was sitting on the stone stairs of the Rookery enjoying the fresh air, when he heard the echoing horns blowing from the bastions high above, announcing the approach of riders. One boy and four knights carrying a crimson banners with the gold lion sigil of House Lannister rode proudly into the courtyard of Castamere. 

Martyn stood up so he could see the riders clearly the boy was Kevan Lannister. The second son of Lord Tytos looked around anxiously. When he saw Martyn standing on the steps of the Rookery he smiled up at him and waved. This time Martyn smiled and waved back. 

Martyn followed as Ser Deric escorted the contingent from Caterly Rock into the Great Hall. Lord and Lady Reyne and their eldest son Allyn waited near the central dais. Martyn saw his uncle and his brother Corwyn standing under the columns on the side of the large hall. Martyn walked over and joined them. 

“It is probably just a way for Lord Tytos to appease your father, after the insult that was given to our house.” Ser Reynard said to his nephews. 

Corwyn nodded agreement looking at Kevan with disdain. Corwyn attitude surprised Martyn. Both his brother’s had always been light hearted and friendly. Ever since their return from Casterly Rock, Allyn and Corwyn had been sullen and serious. There was no more laughter in the yard and halls of Castamere. 

Martyn looked up at his brother and simply said, “Don’t.”  


As Lord Reyne read the Letter of Introduction from Lord Tytos, Kevan turned to look around Castamere’s Great Hall. The young boy looked very lost and alone. Martyn knew his father would never be cruel to his new page. Lord Reyne would treat Kevan fairly. However, it didn’t look like anyone would make the boy feel welcome. Martyn decided that he would welcome Kevan into the family even if no one else did.  


2 

Martyn and Kevan became nearly inseparable over the next few months. When Kevan finished his duties with Lord Roger, he would run up to the Maester’s Rookery and wait impatiently for the old man to release Martyn from his studies.  


Martyn was busy feeding the ravens when Kevan ran to the Rookery. Excited and out of breathe the young page perched on the edge of a table. As he waited for Martyn to finish, the younger boy impatiently kicked his legs back and forth, letting his friend know he had news that couldn’t wait.  


“Well?” Martyn inquired with a laugh, “What is it?”  


“I heard Lord Reyne tell Ser Reynald that the workers excavating under the keep had found a hidden passageway,” Kevan said his eyes wide with excitement. He knew his friend Martyn would also be curious.  


Martyn smiled. They would have to wait until the secrecy of night, than they could sneak into the tunnels below the keep and explore without the risk of discovery. Martyn was good at slipping through the castle at night and he was teaching Kevan how to do the same.  


Martyn lay in his bed and listened carefully to the sounds of the castle. When he heard a light knock on the door, he jumped up and joined Kevan in the passageway. They slipped into the Great Hall taking two torches down from the sconces on the wall before making their way to the lower hall.  


From past experiences sneaking into the warren of tunnels under Castamere, the boys knew that the sentry guarding the entrance would leave to use the garderobe around midnight. He was anything if not regular. The boys ran to the heavy bolted door when the guard finally left. It took all their strength to force the door wide enough for them to slip inside the warren of tunnels under the keep. They silently descended the stairs to the tunnels below and quickly found the recent excavation.  


“Here!” Martyn exclaimed the crevasse near the back of the excavation was just large enough for the boys to crawl through single file. 

Martyn crawled in first. They followed a small tunnel as it wound downward though the mountain. They finally emerged on a ledge that overlooked a huge dark cavern. There was a pungent order in the air; it reminded Martyn of the smell after a thunderstorm.  


_Whoa!_ Kevan mouthed silently and slowly swept the torch back and forth to see the extent of the cavern. At the bottom of the cave, a large pool rippled silently. After they climbed down from the ledge, they ran to the pool. They got down on their hands and knees to look into the slowly churning water.  


“There are eels in here!” Kevan exclaimed holding the torch over the pool. They could see what looked like a small pale eel swimming in the dark pool. The creature’s glassy eyes glowed in the torchlight.  


“I think it’s blind,” said Martyn, looking down at the eel.  


Kevan reached out to touch the creature; its hide was smooth and slippery. The cave suddenly ignited in blue light as a deafening crack echoed through the cavern. Kevan flew backward and crashed into the cavern wall. Martyn ran to where his friend had landed. The boy was breathing heavily, eyes wide, but he was otherwise unhurt.  


“It’s made of Lightning,” Kevan exclaimed.  


“I don’t’ think so,” Martyn replied, looking back at the pool, “but something similar.”  


Martyn helped Kevan to his feet and the boys avoided the pool as they continued to explore the large cavern. They discovered crude drawings painted on the far wall of the cavern that depicted a hunting party of small peculiar looking people.  


“I think these are Children of the Forest,” Martyn said, as he studied the drawings. “I don’t think anyone has been in this cave since the Dawn Age.”  


“Look a dragon!” shouted Kevan. The creature painted on the wall looked suspiciously like a small dragon. “Were there dragons in Westeros during the dawn age?” he asked.  


“I didn’t think so,” replied Martyn as he ran his figures along the wall, “but the Children of the Forest apparently saw one, somewhere.”  


3 

Maester Avere’s infirmary was a mess; Martyn hated organizing jars and bottles of herbs and potions. He kept glancing over at the Maester trying to figure out how to ask about the drawings he had found in the cave, without letting the old man know he had been in the cavern. Finally, he just decided to ask.  


“Were there dragons in Westeros before the Targaryens?”  


“No,” the old man simply replied, “there is no breed of dragon native to Westeros. Not until the Targaryens’ brought the first dragons from Valyria.” Martyn was happy the Maester didn’t ask why he wanted to know.  


After the old man received a summons to the Keep, Martyn began to search through his storages cabinets and shelves. Kevan appeared at the door looking for Maester Avere. He had received a nasty welt on his right hand after sparing with Corwyn.  


Kevan looked at his friend in confusion, “What are you doing?”  


“I want to catch that eel,” Martyn replied, “Maester Avere has gloves he uses to treat contagious illnesses, and they might protect us from its shocks.”  


They found the Maester’s gloves inside a wooden box on a high shelf. The thick black sap of a tree that only grew on an island in the Summer Sea coated the outside of the gloves.  


Later that night they slipped past the guard and hurried down to the pool. Kevan held a torch, while Martyn knelt down next to the water. As the eel swam by Martyn quickly plunged his gloved hands into the pool, missing the creature entirely. It took several attempts but finally Martyn stood holding the eel twisting and turning in his gloved hands. Martyn could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise as blue lightning pulsed over the creature’s small body.  


The boys wrapped the small creature in a damp towel and put it in a leather satchel. They heard a low rumble as a slight tremor shook the cavern. A few seconds later a larger tremor caused the stalactites overhead to break free from the ceiling and crash to the cavern floor.  


The boy’s eyes went wide as they hurried to the exit. As they hauled the satchel up the stairs, the whole castle began to quake violently. Emerging into the lower hall of the keep, they found the castle in a state of chaos.  


Upstairs in the Great Hall Lord Reyne was shouting directions in an effort to free several servants trapped in the kitchen. In the confusion the boys slipped past the guards and out onto the courtyard.  


Lightning and thunder flashed overhead as the boys struggled up the stone steps that lead to the Rookery. Between the rain and the tremors, the stairs had become quite treacherous.  


The boys had to flatten themselves against the cliff wall every time a tremor shook the castle. In a dark corner of the Rookery, they hid the creature in a water bucket covered by a piece of cloth. They hoped Maester Avere wouldn’t find the eel before they could find a better hiding place.  


4 

Maester Avere was feeding the ravens, when Martyn and Kevan hurried into the Rookery. The old man seemed unaware of the eel’s existence. When the boys sat down and waited for the Measter to leave, the old man wrongly assumed they wanted to hear about the earthquake.  


“A few days ago workers were excavating under the keep,” the Maester explained, “last night the tunnel collapsed and shook the whole castle.”  


“Was anyone hurt?” asked Martyn.  


“Yes,” the old man replied, “a few servants were trapped in the kitchen when the ceiling collapsed.”  


Kevan shuttered, “Are they… are they dead?”  


“Oh no, no, they will be fine, just banged up a bit,” the Maester smiled.  


“We can feed the ravens if you need to go look after them,” Martyn suggested.  


The Maester thanked the boys and hurried off to tend the wounded servants.  


“We can’t leave it here,” Martyn said as he fed the ravens, “Maester Avere will find it and give it to father.”  


Kevan asked, “Where are we going to hid it?”  


Martyn thought over the problem, they needed a private place where no one ever went. The only abandoned place in Castamere was an old bastion high up on the cliff wall.  


“The guards don’t go up there anymore,” Martyn explained, “Because the stairs are too dangerous.”  


They found an old water trough in the stables and dragged it up to the abandoned bastion. It took several trips to carry enough water up in buckets to fill the trough. Then they went back to the Rookery to collect the small creature.  


They tried to feed the little creature meat from the Rookery, the meat just floated down to the bottom of the trough untouched. They tried leaves and grass, which only floated on the top of the water.  


“We shouldn’t have taken it from the pool,” Kevan sniffed, “It’s going to die and it’s our fault.”  


“We cannot return it either, the tunnel has collapsed,” Martyn responded.  


Martyn sadly looked down at the poor little creature. “We just have to study it and figure out how to take care of it.”  


Martyn stared at the poor creature floating lethargic in the water. While Martyn watched, a spider on a silky web glided down from the ceiling and landed on the water. As small ripples disturbed the surface of the water, the creature’s body started to crackle with electricity. Suddenly it shot to the surface and swallowed the spider in one big gulp.  


“It needs to eat live prey!” exclaimed Martyn happily.  


5  


The boys began the epic quest to catch every spider and insect in Castamere. A feat that didn’t go unnoticed by Lady Alys. She didn’t know why the boys were hunting bugs, but she was happy they were doing it. Smiling, she rewarded each boy with sweet lemon cakes.  


Soon the boys were in the bastion happily eating lemon cakes as they dropped spiders into the water. They smiled cheerfully, as the small creature swam to the surface and ate greedily. The same slight pungent odor they had smelled in the cavern began to fill the air of the Bastion. As the weeks went by the creature’s health improved.  


“He needs a name,” Martyn said one afternoon while they watched the creature play in the water.  


“Edjiir,” Suggested Kevan, “he looks like an Edjiir.”  


“Well, I don’t know what an Edjiir is supposed to look like,” laughed Martyn, “But Edjiir it is.”  


“Hello Edjiir!” Kevan laughed as he tossed a large beetle into the water.  


Every day after the boys finished their duties they climbed up to the bastion and played with Edjiir. Over the next few weeks, the creature began to change. Edjiir’s glassy eyes began to take on a dark pigment. They realized the eel was no longer blind when the boys came near the trough and the little creature swam to the top and begged for spiders.  


The creature’s hide also began to grow thicker and darker. Little fins began to grow along its back and tail. The eel’s neck lengthened and its snout grew longer and wider. Tiny little teeth appeared in its mouth. The creature was still long and thin but didn’t look like an eel anymore. Especially after it spouted tiny legs and webbed feet.  


Although he still enjoyed swimming, Edjiir began to spend more time out of the water. Martyn and Kevan often found him sunning himself on the ledge of the bastion.  


“He’s like a frog,” said Martyn, “he started out a tadpole.”  


6 

Kevan ran up to the bastion with a fresh bag of spiders. He found Martyn collapsed in a corner, a book in his hand and the creature’s long and thin body curled up on his lap. Blue lightning coursed over both the small creature and boy. The air crackled with electricity and a pungent odor filled the air. Kevan gasped and dropped the bag, the spiders spilled onto the floor and hurried to escape. A happy rumble came from deep down in Edjiir’s throat as he jumped off Martyn’s lap and began to run after the fleeing spiders. Kevan ran to his friend as Martyn sleepily opened his eyes and yawned.  


“What?” Martyn asked when he saw the concern in his friend’s eyes.  


The little creature enjoyed playing, when he saw the boys, Edjiir would jump around before lowering his head and wiggling his long tail in air.  
The creature also seemed to be able to control its lightning. He took live spiders out of the boy’s hands without shocking them. Edjiir only ever shocked the boys when he was annoyed. Martyn never seemed to mind getting shocked. Although, when Edjiir shocked Kevan, the younger boy shook his finger at the little creature to scold him, making Edjiir mew sadly and hide his little face under his front paws.  


When the creature outgrew his diet of spiders, the boys tried giving it a live mouse, which Edjiir ate eagerly. The creature had grown to the size of a large cat.  


“Is he a dragon?” Kevan asked, “He looks like a little dragon without wings.”  


“I don’t think he’s a dragon,” said Martyn, “maybe something related to dragons.”  


“Edjiir is getting big, we should tell your father,” Kevan said one day while they played with the little creature.  


“No!” cried Martyn, “they will take him to the capital and put him in the dragonpit.”  


Martyn rubbed the top of the little creature’s head, Edjiir made a pleasing rumbling sound deep in his throat.  


“The Targaryn dragons all withered away because they were locked up,” Martyn said, “Edjiir isn’t going to be locked up to wither away and die.”  


“He is locked up,” Kevan said sadly, as he looked at the little creature.  


7 

Martyn lay in bed reading when he heard an urgent knock on his door. He opened the door to find Kevan, a panicked look on his face.  


“Edjiir has escaped!” he cried, “I saw him in the yard while I was polishing Lord Reyne’s armor.”  


The yard was dark, hazy and luckily almost completely deserted, “I was sitting right here,” Kevan motioned to a bench near the armory, “and he just walked by, pretty as you please.”  


“Where did he go?” asked Martyn.  


As if in answer to the question one of the hounds started barking wildly. The boy’s eyes went wide. Off in the distance a guard yell, “Shut the fuck up!”  


The boys ran toward the sound of the barking dog. They found Edjiir cornered by the stables. The hound growled fiercely before it attacked. The little creature jumped away just in time. Lightning pulsed over Edjiir’s small body and arced out to hit the dog on its tail. The hound yipped painfully as it ran away.  


When the creature saw the boys, it jumped around playfully before running behind the stables. A guard had stopped to look in the stable, trying to figure out why every hound in the castle had suddenly started barking. Suddenly a small shape darted under the guard’s feet knocking him to the ground. The creature was already around the corner when the confused guard looked up. Then two boys ran past startling the guard a second time.  


The commotion and barking hounds had alerted all the castle guards. As soon as the sentry standing at the entrance of the keep ran to investigate the commotion, Edjiir darted inside the Keep the boys’ right behind him. The creature ran down a long dark hall toward the kitchen. Servants will be in the kitchen, even this late at night Martyn panicked. He was terrified that little creature would be discovered.  


“Head him off!” Martyn shouted at Kevan.  


Kevan nodded and took a short cut through the Great hall and around the screens that walled off the Kitchen from the Great hall. Kevan reach the kitchen door ahead of Edjiir. The little creature was startled when Kevan suddenly appeared in front of him. Edjiir tried to stop but he was travelling to fast, the little creature slid down the hall and crashed into the Kevan. When Martyn caught up to them, the boy and the creature lay entangled together on the floor. Edjiir licked Kevan’s face while the boy laughed hysterically.  


Martyn sighed, “We have to set him free.”  


Kevan carried the struggling little creature to Martyn’s room and used a rope to tied Edjiir to the foot of Martyn’s bed.  


Kevan asked, “How are we going to get him out of the castle?”  


Martyn worried the problem and finally said, “Tomorrow we will go for a ride. He’s still small enough we can hide him in a saddlebag. There’s a large lake high up in the mountains we will let him go there”  


“And he will finally be free” Kevan smiled happily.  


8 

The boys rode out early in the morning. They tried to look inconspicuous as they waved to the guards on duty at the gatehouse. The lake was far up in the mountains above Castamere. They had ridden for most of the morning before they reached the shore of the mountain lake. After they let Edjiir out of the saddlebag, the boys sat down nearby to eat lunch before returning to Castamere. Edjiir went to the lake and timidly stuck his paw in the water before looking back in confusion,  


“Go! Be free!” Martyn yelled and pointed to the lake.  


Edjiir ran back to the boys lowering his head and wiggling his tail in the air.  


“No!” Martyn shouted at the little creature, “be free!”  


Edjiir ignored Martyn and jumped around the boys playfully before trying to crawl back into the saddlebag.  


Finally, Kevan sighed, picked Edjiir up, and carried him into the lake. The young boy waded out as far as he could before dropping the small creature in the water. Edjiir splashed around startled for a few seconds before diving down; a minute later, he came to the surface with a fish in his mouth. Kevan and Martyn laughed at the little creature’s antics.  


“I finally figured out what he is,” laughed Martyn, “he’s a water dragon.”  
The next time the water dragon dove below the surface the boys ran to their horses and quickly rode away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second chapter


	3. The Dragon’s Tail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not to good at summaries, Martyn finally meets Joanna.
> 
> On the eve of Martyn leaving for the Citadel, Martyn and Kevan find themselves in a dangerous situation.

Chapter Three

The Dragon’s Tail

1

Martyn missed the little water dragon they had found in the pool below Castamere. It had been over a year since Martyn and Kevan has released Edjiir in the mountain lake. The young scholar had read every book and scroll in Maester Avere’s study concerning amphibians and aquatic animals, hoping find out everything he could about frogs and other aquatic animals.

Martyn was excited about the new book Maester Avere had just acquired, _Maester Iurtherithi’s, Bestiary of Westeros._ The volume was an illustrated manuscript of all the known animals of Westeros. Martyn searched through the tome for any mention of water dragons, to no avail. 

The book was still interesting if not very helpful. It listed several species of salamanders that lived in Westeros and a species of eel from the Iron Islands that generated electricity when it was threatened. However, none of these fit the description of the water dragon. 

Nonetheless, Martyn was so enthralled in the book that the old Maester had kicked him out of his Rookery, saying the boy needed to exercise his body as well as his mind. Martyn hid the book in this tunic and left the Maester’s study. He read while he sat on a bench near the training yard.

Corwyn and Kevan were sparing nearby. Martyn’s brothers had finally accepted Kevan. If they didn’t like the younger boy they at least seemed to tolerate his presence. 

Nearby Ser Reynald and Ser Deric were shouting instructions to the boys. 

“Don’t lunge!”

“Guard your left!” 

“No, no, your other left!”

“Don’t let your opponent lead you!”

“Don’t cross your arms!”

Martyn chuckled, Kevan and Corwyn were both supposedly so good with swords, but at times, _they are utterly hopeless,_ Martyn thought.

Martyn’s watched as his father, his brother Allyn and Maester Avere came out of the Keep and walked over to the two knights. 

“A raven has arrived from Tarbeck Hall,” the Red Lion told Ser Reynald, “There has been some outlaw activity near the Crag. Our sister has asked for our help removing the threat.”

“My Lord, I will take a contingent of knights and ride for Tarbeck Hall immediately,” Ser Reynald replied.

“Take Allyn, Corwyn and the Lannister boy with you,” Lord Reyne said, “It’s about time they saw some real action.”

2

Martyn sat on the steps of the Rookery with Maester Avere as his uncle, his two brothers and his best friend rode away with a contingent of Castamere’s finest knights. 

“How long will they be gone?” Martyn asked looking up at the skinny old man. 

“It might take months to rid the Crag of outlaws,” the Maester replied, patting the young man on the shoulder. “No need to worry, they are with Ser Reynald.” 

Martyn said quietly, “I’m not worried, I will just miss them is all.” 

Nevertheless, he was worried, every time a raven arrived in the Rookery; Martyn would follow Maester Avere down to the Keep and anxiously waited to hear if his best friend, his uncle, or his brothers were dead. 

After months of waiting for news, finally the word arrived of the elimination of the outlaw threat. His uncle and all three of his charges were returning safely to Castamere. The Red Lion planned a great feast in celebration of their safe return. Martyn helped Maester Avere write invitations and attach them to the ravens. All the houses in the Westerlands great and small received an invitation. 

Martyn was in the Rookery when he heard the horn announcing the arrival of the knights. He rushed down the stairs to greet his brothers and best friend as they rode triumphantly into the courtyard. Martyn noted that the all three young men looked older. 

In the ensuing days, Martyn noticed that the interactions between his brothers and Kevan had also changed. Kevan no longer ran up to the Rookery immediately after he finished his duties with Lord Reyne. Instead, the young page went to the yard to spar with Corwyn or Allyn. Kevan and Martyn’s bothers had developed an easy, battle-tested friendship during their time away from Castamere. From the window of the Rookery Martyn often heard the sound of swords clashing and laughter rising from the yard below. 

Martyn was happy his brothers no longer resented Kevan. He was also happy laughter had returned to the halls and yard of Castamere. However, Martyn was also a little jealous that he now had to share his best friend with his older brothers. 

3

Martyn entered the Great Hall of Castamere for the feast the hall looked truly majestic. Shields and Large white banners displaying the red lion sigil of House Reyne decorated every wall. 

Martyn joined his family on the central dais. Every member of his family was dressed in their finest House Reyne regalia. Along with his father, uncle, and brothers, Martyn wore a long dark red cloak and white surcoat with an embroidered red lion. His mother, Lady Alys wore a beautiful red satin dress with a square neckline highlighted by a large string of diamonds. His twelve-year-old sister, Avilynn even looked pretty in a white dress embroidered with little red lions. 

The guests filed past the central dais to greet the Lord and Lady of Castamere. Martyn’s was surprised to see Joanna Lannister on the arm of her brother Stefford. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. It had been four years since he had last seen her at Casterly Rock. 

The Red Lion stood and waited for the guest to quiet down before speaking. “The outlaw threat in the mountains has been eliminated...” A loud roar and applause rose from the gathered nobles. 

Martyn could hear his father speaking, but he wasn’t listening. Martyn didn’t feel like he belonged at the celebration. The guests were toasting the returning heroes. What have I done? Nothing! I’m still a little kid playing with toys. Martyn had never felt so much like an outcast from his own family.

Martyn wound his way through the crowd of celebrating nobles, fending of compliments that didn’t have anything to do with him. When he finally reached the door of Great Hall, he slipped out and walked into the courtyard, finally alone.

“There you are!” He heard Kevan’s voice behind him. He turned to see Kevan walking toward him with Joanna Lannister on his arm. “I thought you might like to meet my cousin Joanna. She’s visiting from the Capital.” 

Martyn tried to say something, anything, but only a shallow croak escaped from his month. 

Kevan laughed, “Martyn is usually much more intelligent.” 

“I’m happy to meet you,” Joanna said sweetly. Her voice was even lovelier than he imagined. 

Martyn was mesmerized; his trance interrupted only when Avilynn ran up to them, her eyes wide with excitement. 

“Why are you out here?” Avilynn giggled and took Kevan’s arm, “the celebration is inside and you’re a guest of honor.” 

Avilynn smiled slyly up at Martyn before she dragged Kevan back into the Great Hall. Martyn laughed at the pleading look on Kevan’s face. 

“I think your little sister likes my cousin,” Joanna giggled, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. Joanna watched the young couple leave before turning to Martyn. “I wanted to thank you.” 

“Thank me?” Martyn stammered, “Why?” 

“For being so kind to my little cousin,” she said sweetly, “He would never admit it now, of course, but when he first arrived at Castamere, he was so scared and alone. He said you were his best friend…his only friend.” 

Martyn only replied, “I value his friendship.” 

“Kevan said you will be leaving for the Citadel soon,” Joanna said. “He said you would be the Grand Maester someday.”

“Maybe someday,” Martyn laughed. 

“When are you leaving for the Citadel?” She asked sweetly. 

“In a fortnight,” Martyn replied. 

“Are you going to miss your family and my little cousin?” She looked at him concerned. 

Martyn nodded, “Yes, I guess I will.” 

“Kevan is destined to be a great knight, maybe he will be captain of the King’s Guard and since you are destined to be the Grand Maester,” Joanna laughed. “You two will be together at the Red Keep, the best of friends forever.” 

Martyn smiled thinking of a future in which he and Kevan would still be friends. “I hope you are right.” 

Joanna smiled sweetly before stepping forward, rising up on her toes, she lightly kissed Martyn on the cheek. 

“What was that for?” Martyn said touching his cheek. 

“Just for being you,” she giggled sweetly before hurrying back to the Great Hall. 

Martyn stood alone in the courtyard for a long time just smiling. 

4 

Lord Reyne decided that he would spend the last days all of his sons would be together on a hawking expedition in the mountains above Castamere. The Red Lion, all three of his sons, his new squire Kevan Lannister and Ser Deric rode out of Castamere as the first rays of the morning sun began to rise above the horizon. 

As they rode, Martyn looked at his friend and laughed. 

“What?” Kevan asked. 

“My little sister likes you,” Martyn chuckled at the discomfort he saw in his friend’s eyes. “If you marry her, we can finally be brothers.” 

“We already are brothers,” Kevan replied. 

The company rode for most of the day before they stopped in woodland clearing. The Red Lion removed the hood from the large red hawk and released its leash, the large raptor screeched as it flew into the air. 

While the Hawk soared overhead, Martyn and Kevan ran forward and rattled trees and brushes to force the game to flee. When a rabbit ran from the commotion, the hawk swooped down and caught the prey in its talons. After they had taken several rabbits they sat down to enjoy a meal of their catch.

While Lord Roger and Ser Deric relaxed in the evening warmth and Martyn’s brothers feed the horses, Martyn and Kevan decided to explore. The boys followed a path leading into the nearby woods. 

“Your cousin Joanna lives in the capital?” Martyn asked trying unsuccessfully not to blush. 

“She’s a lady-in-waiting to Princess Rhaella.” Kevan said, he looked at his friend and smiled knowingly. 

“It must be exciting to serve at court and live in the Red Keep.” Martyn said. 

“My brother Tywin likes it there,” Kevan replied, “He’s at court too, the royal cup bearer to King Aegon.” 

“Joanna said we would also be at court someday,” Martyn laughed, “You as the captain of the King’s Guard and me as the Grand Maester.” 

“She certainly has an imagination,” Kevan chuckled shaking his head, “But that does sound like a grand future, we would both sit on the small council and advise the king.” 

“I hope it happens.” Martyn said sincerely. 

“Yeah, me too,” Kevan said as they wondered deeper into the forest. 

The boys had just crossed a stream when a band of rough looking men surrounded them. 

“What do we have here?” asked a gruff man with a long scar running the length of his face, “two little lost lordlings." 

Kevan began to draw his sword. He hadn’t pulled the weapon halfway out of its scabbard when one of the men used the hilt of his sword to knock him unconscious. Before Martyn couldn’t even respond before another of the outlaws knocked him, out as well. 

5

When the boys awoke, it was already dark and they were tied to a tree. Kevan silently communicated by glancing done at his leg. Martyn saw a small hunting knife sticking out of his friends boot. The outlaws apparently hadn’t found the small knife. 

The outlaws weren’t paying attention to their captives. They sat around a nearby fire and discussed their plans for the boys. 

“Look ‘et ‘em clothes,” a toothless man was saying, “They people be sure to pay a pretty penny for ‘em.” 

The man with the long scar said, “No, no, you moron, slavers will pay more.” 

A particularly disturbing looking man with red blotches covering his face laughed, “I’ve a much better idea for these pretty little lordlings.” 

While Scarface laughed rowdily, the toothless man growled, “Leave ‘em boys alone, they be worthless if you befoul them.” 

“Nay, they won’t tell anyone, will ya, boys?” The blotchy faced man looked at the boys and laughed. “It would be a stain on their lordly honor.” 

The blotchy faced man stood up and approached them while Kevan struggled to reach for the hunting knife. He grasped the blade and hid it in the palm of his hand; Kevan swore he wouldn’t let anything happen to Martyn or himself. 

A low rumbling growl suddenly rose from the tree line. The outlaws looked around. “Who’s there?” 

“Just a mountain lion,” said the man with the red and blotchy face, he draw his sword and walked back to the protection of the fire. The other men drew their swords as well. 

“Make enough noise and it will get scared off.” The man with the long scar said.

Another growl rolled over the campsite, from the opposite direction. 

The outlaws stood in a circle backs together, swords drawn trying to discern the direction of the lion’s movements. 

A sudden deafening roar tore through the clearing as the large lion leaped from the shadows. It landed between the trees and the campfire. The campfire glowed brightly behind the animal and all the boys could see was a giant black shape. Martyn thought it was the largest mountain lion he had ever seen; it was easily the size of a horse. 

The large lion seemed malformed; the beast was long and thin, not a lion’s shape. A slight pungent odor filled the air and suddenly the clearing exploded with blue light. The skin of the beast was pulsating with lightning. 

“Edjiir!” both of the boys shouted at once. 

The outlaws looked on in horror as the dragon roared loudly. The blotchy faced man dropped his sword and turned to run, but Edjiir whipped his long tail around and knocked the man onto the ground. 

The other two outlaws yelled and waved their swords in the air as they ran toward the beast. Edjiir clamped his teeth around the arm of the toothless man and threw him crashing into the campfire. The man screamed loudly as he rolled on the ground to extinguish the flames. 

Edjiir turned to the last outlaw the man froze in horror as the dragon roared loudly in his face. 

“Edjiir, stop playing,” Kevan shouted, as the other two outlaws struggled to their feet. “Use your shocks!” 

The creature appeared to understand because chain lightning erupted from the water dragon’s body. The lightning arched from one outlaw to the next until all of the men had collapsed to the ground unconscious. 

Kevan used his knife to free himself and Martyn, before he retrieved his sword. He went to the unconscious men and stabbed each one several times.

“What are you doing?” Martyn asked in horror.<

“We can’t let them live, they’ll tell tales about a dragon and then men will come and hunt Edjiir down.” 

“But what will we tell my father,” Martyn asked, “He won’t believe we were able to kill all these men without help.” 

“We’ll tell him, they fought amongst themselves over what to do with us,” Kevan said, “It is half true anyway.” 

Martyn turned to look for Edjiir. The dragon was lying near the edge of the clearing licking a wound on his right leg. The wound luckily looked superficial.

Martyn slowly inched toward the water dragon, as Edjiir looked up at the boy the hairs on the back of Martyn’s neck rose as electricity pulsed over the water dragon’s body. 

“Edjiir,” Martyn said carefully reached out to the dragon, pausing a few inches from the beast’s head, “It’s us…its Kevan and Martyn.” 

The creature rose to its feet and looked down at the boys. Edjiir made a pleasant rumbling sound deep in his throat before he bounded back into the forest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments, this is my first story so I really don't know it its any good or just plain trash. I would appreciate praise or even constructive criticism.


	4. The Citadel Stands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourteen year old Martyn Reyne has left his family and best friend and traveled to the Citadel.
> 
> Sorry I'm not good at summaries.

Chapter Four  
The Citadel 

1

Martyn stood on the docks of Oldtown awed by the height of the Hightower. Oldtown’s great lighthouse and the seat of House Hightower reached upward into the clouds. Ser Reynald thanked the captain of the merchant ship they had sailed from Lannisport. Ser Reynald collected his awe struck nephew and walked down the docks and into the ancient city of Oldtown.

As Martyn followed Ser Reynald through the cobblestone streets of the grand old city, he marveled at the magnificent architecture and the people were a mosaic of the known world. Oldtown was located on the mouth of the Honeywine River and the Sunset Sea. The city was a major center of trade. People from all over the known world came to work and trade in the ancient city.

Oldtown would be his home at least until he had forged enough links in his Maester’s chain to earn a place in a noble house. On the other hand, he could decide to spend the rest of his life studying at the Citadel. Joanna’s prediction might even come true and he would become the Grand Maester and live at the Red Keep in Kings Landing.

 _And who knows what the morrow will bring us,_ Martyn thought of the old saying as he made his way to the Citadel.

Two Giant Sphinx towered overhead as they walked through the gates of the Citadel. The complex of towers and grand buildings that comprised the campus of the Order of Maesters encompassed both banks of the Honeywine River.

Novices and Acolytes hurried past occupied with their own concerns. Finally, Ser Reynald had to stop a young novice and asked directions. The young man didn’t say a word as he pointed to a large building nearby before he hurried away.

The oldest man Martyn had ever seen sat hunched over a counter writing in a large book. When they walked up the old Maester glanced up just once before returning to his book.

“And?” the Maester asked without bothering to look back up again, unimpressed by the men standing before him, which from their stance and attire were obviously a knight and a young lord.

“We are here from Castamere,” Ser Reynald said, as he handed the old man a Letter of Introduction from Lord Reyne.

The old Maester glanced at the letter and checked his book, “Yes, yes, we have been expecting you,” the man looked up finally giving Martyn a glassy eyed stare. “Your Maester was… Maester Avere?”

Martyn nodded.

“Hah, Avere, that petulant young pup,” the old man sneered, “Everything was a joke with him.”

_How old is this man?_ If he called Maester Avere a young pup, Martyn thought to himself.

“Well,” the old Maester rumbled, “Go wait in the library, someone will be along soon and show you to your cell.”

A maze of book lined shelves lead to the main atrium of the library. The vast chamber mesmerized Martyn. The room was larger than the great hall at Castamere. A large mirrored chandelier soared overhead reflecting light into every corner of the large space. Shelves and reading desks filled the vast chamber. Martyn had never seen so many books in his life. They found a bench and sat down to wait for their guide.

“Your father gave me this to give you,” Ser Reynald handed Martyn a small pouch that contained some coins and a silver locket with a red lion enameled on the front. The locket contained two long strands of hair woven together, his mother’s light brown, and his sister’s dark ash brown hair.

Martyn clutched the locket to his chest. “Thank you,” Martyn said and his eyes shining. He hung the locket around his neck and tucked it into his tunic.

The knight patted the younger man on the back. “Your father also told me to tell you…no matter what they tell you here…always remember you are a Reyne.”

They waited in silence for what seemed like several hours before a young novice with a round chipmunk face strolled toward them.

“Are you Martyn?” he asked bluntly.

Martin just nodded.

“I’m Darra Shadowmire, your cellmate, follow me,” the novice said brusquely.

Martyn stood up and followed the young man. He looked back to wave goodbye to his uncle Reynald and his childhood.

2

The cell Martyn shared with Darra was small and cramped. A single large table, covered in books, owned the chamber daring anyone to walk around the small room and not bump into it. Darra pointed to the wooden bed on the left side of the room and said snippily, “that’s mine, don’t touch it.”

Martyn dropped down on the worn straw mattress on the other bed and looked around the small chamber. “What happened now?” he finally asked.

Darra only shrugged, “an Archmaester will come.”

Darra sat down at the large table and began to transcribe one of the books. Martin placed the pouch of coins in a small trunk at the end of his bed.

“Can I help?” He asked Darra.

Darra just shrugged and pointed at the other chair.

Finally, an Archmaester around forty years old arrived and looked at Martyn as if he was a small annoying gnat buzzing around his head. The man said brusquely, “My name is Archmaester Pycelle, follow me.”

It appeared that the Archmaester felt showing a mere novice around was below his dignity. He led Martyn through a maze of corridors before they arrived at the Archmaester’s study.

“Report to me here each morning.” The Archmaester said curtly. Then Pycelle handed Martyn his novice robes and left the new novice standing alone in a dark corridor to find his own way back to his cell.

When Martyn did finally make it back, Darra was still transcribing the book, a single candle burning low on the table.

“Pycelle is an ass,” Darra said flatly.

After several minutes Darra looked up, Martyn still stood next to his bed confused and lost. His eye’s glistening as he struggled to control his emotions.

 _What is wrong with me?_ Martyn moaned to himself, _I’m six years older than Kevan, when he first came to live at Castamere._ Martyn clutched the locket under his tunic tightly.

Darra sighed, realizing he actually felt sorry for the younger boy, “help me transcribe this book, and I’ll show you around.”

Martyn smiled and started to change into his novice robe. Darra kept his head down transcribing the book. When Martyn went to the trunk to put away his dark red cloak and white tunic he noticed the pouch of coins was gone. He turned around and looked at Darra an accusatory look on his face.

“Don’t worry I hid it, this place is full of thieves,” Darra said without a trace of guilt for moving Martyn’s bag. He showed Martyn a loose stone under the table that hid a small hole dug into the floor. Martyn’s pouch and several other bags were stored in the secret hiding place.

“These bags are mine, they’re worthless to you,” Darra said, “but they are important to me, so hands off.”

“Um, thanks,” Martyn stuttered.

“That’s a lot of coin,” Darra said, “What are you? A second son of a Lord?”

“Third,” Martyn answered  
.  
“Ah,” Darra said unimpressed.

Martyn sat down to help Darra transcribe the book. It was late at night before they had finished. The moon was their only company as they walked through the cobblestone footpaths of the Citadel.

The library stood like a silent sentinel near the front gate of the Citadel. The late hour had failed to keep a small number of studious novices away. They sat around several tables in atrium reading or enthralled in deep discussions. Down a long book lined passageway, a large iron-gate blocked off the restricted books.

“Novices and Acolytes don’t have access to this area; you have to be a Maester.” Darra told him.

Martyn looked at the books behind the gates greedily wishing he could read them all now. It would take years for him to earn enough links to be a full Maester.

They walked through the campus all night. Darra pointed out the Rookery on the Isle of Ravens, the infirmary, the Scribe’s Hearth, the Seneschals’ Court, and the Weeping Dock. As the sun rose over the Honeywine, the two young men stood on the long bridge that connected the two banks of the campus and watched the sunrise over the ancient city.

3

Over the next few months, Martyn grew accustomed to a life of study and servitude. He spent most of this time with Archmaester Owen, the only instructor at the Citadel who taught animal biology. Few novices were interested in the study of animals, assuming animal husbandry wouldn’t be as useful as healing or politics. Martyn was often Archmaester Owens only student. Along with training and taking care of the ravens, they cared for all the horses and livestock housed at the Citadel. Martyn’s favorite place was the zoological center, where Archmaester Owen studied wild animals. Martyn was tasked with feeding the wild animals and cleaning their cages.

Afterwards Martyn would follow Archmaester Pycelle through the library as the older man selected books for Martyn to read and transcribe.

Whenever Martyn asked about the Children of the Forest, dragons, mythical creatures, or magic, The Archmaester simply replied the Citadel was not the place for the study of sorcery and glass candles.

Martyn found his roommate Darra, aloof and secretive, and sometimes even rude. Nonetheless, Martyn and Darra became friends. Except for Maester Avere, Martyn had always been the smartest person he knew. Now there was someone close to his own age, just as intelligent.

Darra was a year older than Martyn, but much shorter. He had big brown eyes, chubby cheeks and a short thick mop of unruly auburn hair. Even though Darra was a commoner, he had grown up extremely wealthy. He told Martyn that he was the only child of a prosperous silversmith from the Riverlands.

Darra had always been intelligent. When he told his father he wanted to learn the healing arts, his father had written to the Citadel and paid all the proper bribes to get his son accepted into the Order of Maesters.

4

Martyn balanced a large pile of books in his arms as he struggled to place a tome on the top shelf. Every time he had come close to finishing his task, another Maester would come along and load him down with more books. Until Martyn had learned to listen for the subtle clink of chains, which meant an approaching Maester, and head in the opposite direction. It was well after dark when Martyn had managed to avoid the Maesters and shelve his last book. He found himself next the iron-gate, the prohibited books beckoned to him. He rattled the gate once and found it securely locked.

“Another novice looking for forbidden knowledge,” a voice behind him laughed.

Martyn was so obsessed with the gate he had failed to notice the clinking of chains. He turned around and saw two Maesters. The younger of the two was holding several books. Martyn sighed sure he was going to be loaded down with another pile of books.

“Relax,” the younger Maesters chuckled, “we aren’t here to give you more work.”

They walked past Martyn and unlocked the iron-gate. While the younger Maester replaced the books, the older Archmaester smiled at Martyn and beckoned him forward.

“I’m Archmaester Marwyn and this is my assistant Qyburn.” The older man said. The Archmaester had seen more than forty namedays, short and stocky with a barrel chest and thinning hair brown hair. A pink froth stuck to his lower lip, the remains of the sourleaf he was chewing.

His assistant, Maester Qyburn looked to be in his late twenties. He was a thin man with kind brown eyes and a thick head of brown curls. His smile was like a sunny afternoon, warm and comfortable.

“I’m…I’m not supposed to be in here.” Martyn stuttered.

Qyburn winked at him and laughed, “Stupid rules are made to be broken.”

“You are interested in the mythical arts?” Archmaester Marwyn asked.

Martyn nodded looking around the small room daring to run his fingers across the shelved books reading the titles.

“So what is the Citadel forcing you to study instead of the mythical arts?” Marwyn asked with a chuckle.

“Animal husbandry,” Martyn answered still a little in awe of the books before him.

“Aw.” Qyburn said as he reach for a book and handed it to Martyn, “You might like this one here then.” The book’s title was, _Magical beast of Westeros and Essos. _Martyn could only nod as he greedily eyed the book.__

____

“Go ahead take it,” Qyburn laughed, “rules should never stand in the way of knowledge.”

__

“If you’re interesting in learning more, my study is in the Night Tower.” Marwyn said as he escorted Martyn and Qyburn out of the small room and locked the gate. “You can return the book to me there when you finish it.”

__

When Martyn returned to his room Darra was sitting at the table transcribing an ancient manuscript that had seen better days. Martyn sat down and took out the manuscripts Archmaester Pycelle had assigned him to transcribe.

__

“Have you heard of Archmaester Marwyn?” Martyn asked pausing from his work.

__

Darra only nodded and continued writing. Martyn had gotten used to Darra’s resistance to small talk.

__

“What have you heard about him?” Martyn was sure Darra would say he was an ass; most Maesters were asses in Darra’s opinion.

__

“I don’t know him, doesn’t he teach mystical arts?”

__

Martyn nodded, “Yeah, I met him and his assistant Maester Qyburn in the library.” 

__

“I’m not really interested in magic, if it ever existed it is gone from the world.” Darra said with a shrug and paused for a second before continuing, “I know Qyburn though he works in the infirmary.”

__

“And...?” Martyn had to ask, getting information out of Darra was difficult at the best of times.

__

The young man sighed and look up at Martyn, “He’s a pain in the ass, very demanding, but he doesn’t ask anything of the novices he wouldn’t do himself.”

__

Martyn chuckled, that was actually high praise coming from Darra, a pain in the ass is far better than just an ass.

__

Darra started writing again before saying, “I wouldn’t get involved with those two they are kind of…strange.” 

__

“How so?” Martyn asked, Darra had already warned him to stay away from several Maesters, because they liked novices a little too much. Even though Darra was surely and rude his instincts were good, he always knew which Maesters to avoid.

__

“Qyburn is a good healer and he is dedicated, I just don’t trust that mysticism gobbledygook he’s always on about,” Darra sneered, “all glass candles and dark magic, it seems so…unnatural.”

__

That didn’t seem bad at all Martyn laughed, “Is that all?”

__

Darra only shrugged.

__

After Darra had collapsed on his bed in exhaustion, Martyn opened the book Qyburn had given him. He knew he would be tired the next day but he didn’t care. He had waited so long for this book with trembling hands he opened the ancient tome.

__

The book was old and whispered its displeasure in rustles and cracks. He carefully turned each page, the parchment often crumbling in his hands.

__

He read of Dragon and Rocs from the shadowlands and Valyria, Manticores, Harpies, Giants and Ice Spiders, Mermaids, Children of the Forest, Direwolves, Krakens, Creatures of Shadow, Grunmkins, Snarks and…White Walkers, all manner of creatures that had once inhabited the world in a more magical age that according to Darra was gone forever.

__

Darra awoke from sleep by the startled gasp of his roommate. Ever since arriving at the Citadel he had become a light sleeper, it was better that way he didn’t trust most people and especially most Maesters. _Was someone in the room?_ Darra clutched his nightshirt and his blanket tightly to his chest and looked around in panic. On the table, a single candle danced in the darkness. Martyn was still awake and reading.

__

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Darra voice squeaked a hint of fear rising in his voice.

__

Martyn’s eyes twinkled in the soft glow of the candle and his smile filled the whole of his face. Martyn couldn’t take his eyes off the illustration on the page in front of him. The creature was long and thin. It looked like a dragon but it stood lower to the ground on sprawling legs. Martyn ran his finger over the illustration, it was Edjiir.

__

“A Wyvern,” Martyn whispered.

__

“A what…?” Darra sneered, “What are you on about?”

__

“It’s nothing, sorry I woke you.” Martyn replied not taking his eyes off the page.

__

Darra glared at his roommate, “go to sleep Martyn,” he growled as he fell back down onto his straw mattress covering his head with his pillow.

 _Not a Water Dragon, not a dragon at all, a Wyvern,_ Martyn thought as he read the words in the ancient tome.

__

Wyverns were a smaller breed of creature related to dragons. They were once native to Westeros, but became extinct thousands of years before the first men crossed the arm of Dorne. The creatures only existed in the legends of Children of the Forest. Wyverns had disappeared so long ago the long-lived Children of the Forest had never seen one living.

__

While dragons were all fire and passion, wyverns were the cool elements of natural catastrophes: thunderstorms, blizzards, earthquakes and volcanoes, the latter being often confused with the fire of dragons.

__

Dragons hatched from their eggs as Dragons. Wyverns hatched as a larva, their element decided by where and when the creature emerged from its egg. A Wyvern hatched in a blizzard would control the element of cold and ice. Hatched in an erupting volcano would create a volcanic Wyvern.

__

Martyn paused for a moment; many years ago, a severe storm had swept through the Westerlands, at the time his family was traveling to Casterly Rock for Genna Lannister’s Betrothal. Edjiir must have emerged from his egg during that storm. He was a Storm Wyvern and could control the elements of lightning, wind and rain. Martyn smiled and chuckled, wishing he could tell Kevan he had finally solved the mystery of Edjiir.

__

“Martyn!” Darra screeched sitting back up and giving his roommate an evil look, “shut the fuck up and GO TO SLEEP!”

__

5

__

The Night Tower stood like giant glass candle. The stones were a grey so dark they appeared black. Archmaester Marwyn’s study was on the third floor of the dark tower. Martyn rapped lightly on the large oak door. He heard footsteps and a second later Maester Qyburn opened the door.

__

“Well if it isn’t our curious little novice,” he chuckled; the young Maester stepped aside so Martyn could enter the small dusty study of Archmaester Marwyn.

__

The Archmaester sat behind a large weirwood desk, covered in books and parchments. On cluttered shelves behind the desk were all manner of magical artifact, Wands and staffs, a glass skull, crystals, glass orbs. On the top shelf, a glass candle stood silently watching the room. Martyn felt regret, if magic had indeed left the world the candle would never glow again.

__

The Archmaester stood up and walked around his desk, “Aw, Novice…what was your name?” the older man asked.

__

“Martyn,” The young novice replied, “Martyn Reyne.”

__

“Castamere?” Maester Qybrun asked, “The Red Lion is your…?”

__

“My father,” Martyn answered.

__

“You have come to return the book?” Archmaester Marwyn said.

__

“Yes, and I was hoping to study with you.” Martyn said.

__

Qyburn nodded, “Who is your advising Archmaester?”

__

“Archmaester Pycelle,” Martyn said, the men looked at each other and chuckled. An inside joke apparently.

__

“Well, we will have to get you out of that dreadful situation as soon as possible,” Archmaester Marwyn said with a chuckle. “It shouldn’t be difficult Pycelle is always willing to shirk his responsibilities.”

__

“I must get to the infirmary, but I’ll see to the transfer as soon as I finish my duty shift.” Qyburn nodded at Martyn and the old Archmaester before he left.

__

A few days later, Qyburn found Martyn in the stables and informed him to report to Archmaster Marwyn the next day. The Citadel had just become much more interesting place. 

__

6

__

Martyn still worked with Archmaester Owen in the stables and the zoological center. However, instead of following Pycelle through the library it was Archmaester Marwyn or Maester Qyburn who tossed books at Martyn to read and transcribe each night. Most of the books and scrolls came from the restricted section.

On quiet afternoons, Archmaester Marwyn and his assistants would discuss the world of magic and mystical arts. 

“Magic isn’t gone from the world,” Marwyn told his assistants, “It is just very weak, a trickle were their once was a torrent.”

“Why?” asked Martyn.

__

The Archmaester thought for a minute, and tied a small weight to the end of a string. He held it in the air and swung the weight back and forth. “Magic and the mundane are like a pendulum, on one extreme, magic and on the other side the mundane.”

__

“And we are on the mundane end of the pendulum?” Martyn said sadly.

__

Marwyn nodded, “The pendulum was on the magic extreme when the Wall was built. It reached its mundane extreme a few hundred years ago. The small size of the Targaryen Dragons was the proof, and no one noticed.”

__

“People believe the dragons withered away and died because they were locked away.” Qyburn said, “That played a small part, but the main reason they died was there wasn’t enough magic to sustain them.”

__

“If the pendulum reached the mundane extreme hundreds of years ago,” Martyn said a smile growing on his young face, “that would mean—.”

__

“Magic is returning to the world,” Qyburn said, the younger Maester was also smiling foolishly.

__

“And that might be either a very good thing, or a very bad thing.” Archmaester Marwyn said shaking his head.

__

“How could it be a bad thing?” Martyn said innocently.

__

“Because we don’t really know what the return of magic will bring.”

__


	5. Darra’s Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Citadel gets more interesting as Martyn learns the secrets that many of this friends try to hide.  
> I also changed the rating, because Martyn is getting older.

Chapter 5

Darra’s Secret

1

Once every few weeks the novices, freed from their duties could explore Oldtown. On these days, Darra would disappear and wouldn’t return until dusk. Martyn missed spying on his family and decided to follow Darra and find out where he went. 

Darra awoke before sunrise and slipped into the infirmary before leaving the Citadel. Martyn followed him like a lion hunting his prey. Darra carried a heavy satchel as he made his way through the streets of Oldtown. The young man finally arrived in the Seaward District, a disreputable section of the city near the docks. 

The buildings were old and many had crude repairs, a jigsaw of different building materials that made the buildings look mottled. The smell of salt and fish saturated the air. Martyn was surprised to see Darra enter a brothel, unlike some of the other novices, Darra had never expressed much interest in whores.

Embarrassed by his curiosity Martyn and returned to the citadel. When Darra returned in the evening, he sat down at the table and stared at his cellmate.

Finally, the Martyn guiltily asked, “What?”

“Why did you follow me?” Darra asked harshly.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious,” Martyn guiltily said, “I guess what you do with whores is none of my business.”

“Yes, it is none of your business,” Darra replied getting up and lying down on his bed in a huff.

Martyn lay on his bed for a while looking at the ceiling. “How did you know I was following you?” He finally asked. “I’ve slipped past guards all my life and never got caught.”

“I’m just good at spotting snoops,” Darra sneered, “and just so you know, I’m not…I don’t…sleep with those women. I help them when they are sick and wounded, because no one else cares.”

Martyn turn to look over at Darra, “Do the Maesters know?”

“Of course they don’t’ know,” Darra scoffed irritably, “Those old fuckers don’t care about women, especially those women.” 

Darra was quiet for a while fidgeting, finally he sat up and looked over at Martyn. He was mad and frustrated with his roommate. The young man’s curiosity could very well get Darra kicked out of the Citadel.

Darra sighed, “Don’t tell the Maesters, I’m the only healer most of those women will ever see.”

“I won’t,” Martyn, said, “I think it’s a good thing, what you are doing.”

Darra only nodded.

“I want to help,” Martyn finally said.

Darra rolled over on his side and looked over at Martyn, “I thought you were more interested in animals and magic then people.”

“I am, but I still want to help,” Martyn replied.

From then on whenever Darra went to the wharfs, Martyn followed along. Martyn spent most of the time treating minor cuts and bruises. Darra handled the more serious cases. 

The whores sometimes offered their services to Martyn, but he just blushed, and declined their offer by stammering incoherently. They never seemed to ask Darra if he wanted any of their favors. 

2

The smell of the salt and fish drifting up from the wharf as Martyn and Darra made their way along the broken cobblestone streets. They were heading toward a brothel called the Red Lute, a notorious place in the Seaward District full of gruff and violent men. A young girl named Audrey came running up to them and grabbed Darra by the arm.

The girl pleaded, “Please, please, its Holly she’s hurt real bad.” 

When they arrived at the Red Lute, a low moaning was emanating from a small room on the third floor. What lay on the bed in the dusty room was little more than a small bloody mass, the remains of what had once been a lovely young girl with long dark hair. Darra handed Martyn a small white vial.

“Milk of the Poppy?” Martyn asked.

“I haven’t got much, but she needs all of it,” Darra said.

Darra turned down the blood soaked blanket to look at the extent of the girl’s injuries. Audrey told them Holly had been beaten by a man they called the Spider Knight, because of his cruelty. Darra tried for hours to save the girl. In the end, all he could do was give comfort in her last minutes of life. Darra stroked her long dark hair tenderly as she died in his arms. He clutched the girl’s hand for long time after she had gone.

Martyn finally placed his hand on his friends shoulder and said softly. “You did all you could.”

Darra laid his head down on the girl’s hand and cried, “It’s not fair…just because we’re…just because they’re woman. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Martyn, said sadly, “No one deserves this.”

Finally, Darra rose and went to the washbasin to clean the dried blood off his arms and hands. When they left the dusty room, it was already dark and the novices could hear drunken banter coming from downstairs. 

Embarrassed by the debauchery the novices pulled their hoods over their heads and kept their heads low as they hurried to the front door. Suddenly the door crashed open and a tall drunken knight shoved the novices out of his path.

The Man roared loudly, “Where is that little whore Holly, we need to finish what we started last night.”

Darra stopped in the doorway, fists clenched; he slowly turned around to stare at the back of the Spider knight’s head.

“Don’t,” Martyn hissed.

It was too late; the drunken knight had noticed the angry look on Darra’s face. The Spider Knight staggered over to the young novice bending down his foul breath washed over the smaller man’s face.

“Little man?” the knight growled into Darra’s face. “You have a problem with how I treat me whores?”

“No, no, Ser,” Martyn said, trying to turn his friend toward the door.

“Not talking to you!” the knight growled and backhanded Martyn into the wall.

The Spider Knight then turned back to Darra and grabbed the novice by the front of his robe. Spittle flew into younger man’s face as the knight growled, “Got something to say you little cunt!”

Darra struggled in the Knights grasp, futilely slapping at the knight’s hands and arms in a vain attempt to free himself.

The Spider Knight released Darra spitting, “Little bastard, not worth my time.” 

The knight started to turn away, and then decided differently, the drunken man turned around suddenly and brutally punched the younger man in the gut. Darra dropped to his knees. The knight continues his assault by kicking Darra in the stomach and head until the young novice had rolled into a ball on the floor.

Finally, the Spider Knight grew bored of beating the helpless little novice and stomped over to a table, laughing wildly as he grabbed one of the frightened whores and pulled her down on his lap. 

Martyn crawled to his friend as Audrey motioned them toward the back stairs. Martyn picked up Darra and carried him up the stairs to a small room.

“No…don’t…stop,” Darra moaned in pain as Martyn laid him gently on the bed. Darra tried to weakly push Martyn away, but he passed out instead.

Darra moaned in pain as sunlight streamed in from a small window. Martyn stood looking out of the window.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Martyn asked.

Darra asked confused, “What? Tell you what?”

Martyn turned and stared down at his friend for a minute before continuing.

“That you’re a girl,” Martyn said holding up Darra’s torn and tattered novices’ robe.

Darra sat up holding the blanket over her chest realizing she was no longer wearing her robe.

“I thought we were friends,” Martyn continued.

“And if you had known, would we be friends?” Darra asked accusingly.

“I don’t—,” Martyn started.

“No we wouldn’t be friends,” Darra interrupted, “tell me you wouldn’t have turned me into the Maesters when we first meet.”

“Probably,” Martyn admitted, “when we first meet.”

Martyn sat down on the edge of the bed, causing Darra quickly draw backward.

Martyn looked over at her, “Was anything you told me true? Is your father even a silversmith in the Riverlands?”

“Yes,” She replied, “everything I’ve told you is true except for one small detail.” 

“Hardly a small detail,” Martyn snorted ironically.

“I guess it’s over then,” Darra sighed. “You’re going tell the Maesters.”

“You’re a talented healer,” Martyn said. Then he looked her in the eyes and added, “And my friend.”

Darra looked back at him, her brown eyes growing even larger. 

“I will keep your secret,” Martyn whispered.

Darra sprang forward and wrapped her arms around his neck forgetting she wasn’t wearing her robe.

“Thank you,” she cried.

When they returned to the Citadel, they made up a not entirely false story of an attack by ruffians. The novices missed curfew and were punished, but luckily not expelled.

3

Knowing Darra’s secret actually helped their friendship. It turned out Darra was only impolite to keep people at a distance. It was easier to maintain her secret when people avoided her. It was all an act, alone in their cell, they could be themselves and Darra became quite talkative. They spent hours discussing the future. Darra confessed she knew she could never become a Maester, but she hoped to learn enough of the healing arts to return to the Riverlands to help the smallfolk.

Martyn had been in the Citadel for a year, when his best friend Darra forged her first healing link. When she pulled, the small silver link out of her robe proudly showed him, he was so proud of her. Martyn pulled Darra close in a long embrace, she stiffened in his arms and pulled away blushing.

Martyn placed his hands on to her shoulders and smiled down at her, “don’t worry, I don’t think of you like that…like a girl,” he said with a laugh, “you’re just a…just a little chipmunk.”

Martyn had lately taken to calling her Chipmunk.

“Stop calling me Chipmunk,” She tried to scowl but ended up laughing when Martyn responded by puffing up his cheeks several times in a bad imitation of a chipmunk.

4

A manuscript about the construction of the Sept of Baelor lay on the table like a rotting corpse. Martyn didn’t mind copying scrolls and books when they were interesting or useful, but this manuscript was dead boring. His head hurt just thinking about it. _Why would Qyburn assign this manuscript to transcribe?_ He wondered if he had done something that annoyed the Maester.

_Maybe Chipmunk will know about some herb or potion that will get rid of a headache,_ he thought.

As if on cue, Darra strolled into their small room. She walked over and put a small book down in front of him. He picked up the tome and read the title, _The Magic of the Children of the Forest_ it was so old the name of the Maester who had written the book was illegible. A question formed on his lips.

“I found it in the Oldtown market and thought of you, I thought you might like it,” Darra smiled down at him.

“Go ahead and read it,” she said smiling, “I’ll finish the transcribing.”

She sat down and started writing, a second later she growled, “By the seven!” Darra put her hands over her face, shaking her head, regretting her offer to transcribe the manuscript.

Martyn looked across the table at her and chuckled, “You agreed, Chipmunk.”

As he read, Martyn would occasionally stop to tell Darra what he had just discovered. Mostly to help take Darra mind off the task she had giving herself, but also because he found it interesting.

“They used dragonglass.” Martyn said.

“Obsidian?” Darra asked.

Martyn nodded.

Martyn explained, “The Maester who wrote this book said Greenseers have the potential of being much more powerful.” 

“I thought the Maester’s didn’t believe Greenseers were real,” Darra replied.

“Maester Avere believed they were real, so do Marwyn and Qyburn and this Maester apparently did as well.” Martyn said, “He also said Greenseers are connected in some way to the Children of the Forest.”

She asked, “What do you think?”

Martyn started, “I think—,” he suddenly stopped, He felt a strange sensation weaving through his body and then his eyes suddenly turned icy white.

Martyn was at the Wall. Or rather, where the Wall was supposed to be, it wasn’t there. He panicked; the Wall, destroyed, wildlings will swarm through the Kingdoms. His family, his mother, and sister would be killed, tortured, or worse. Martyn suddenly realized it wasn’t the present day, that he was thousands of years in the past. The Wall had yet to be built.

Martyn saw a small creature, one of the Children of the Forest. The creature faded in and out, as she walked through a large grove of weirwood trees. She held a large staff in her hands. The quarterstaff was made of weirwood; one end capped in an ornate design, which held a single shard of black dragonglass. The vision began to fade away and Martyn was again in this cell with Darra.

Darra was one of only two people who had ever witnessed Martyn’s visions. Nevertheless, the sight always made her feel uneasy. She rushed over and knelt beside him as he returned to the present.

“Where did you go?” she asked patting his hand.

“I don’t know…beyond the Wall I think.” Martyn answered.

Martyn started shaking violently. “There was a staff…” Martyn muttered. “I think I need to find it.”

“Maybe you should talk to Archmaester Marwyn, he might know something about it,” Darra said.

Martyn nodded if anyone at the Citadel would know about the staff it would be Archmaester Marwyn.

5

“You’re a what?” asked Qyburn, his brown eyes wide in an expression of disbelief.

Martyn and Darra stood in Archmaester Marwyn’s study. The Archmaester raised his eyebrow at Martyn and popped another sourleif into his mouth.

A Greenseer,” Martyn repeated, “I’ve had visions since I was ten.”

Qyburn shook his head in confusion, not quite ready to accept the far-fetched story.

“It’s true,” Darra said, “I’ve seen it, his eyes turn white and he goes…away.”

“A seizure maybe?” Qyburn said looking over at the Archmaester for confirmation.

“No, he is telling the truth,” Marwyn said calmly, the red foam from the sourleif turning his grin bright red.

“You knew?” Qyburn was startled and a little hurt the Archmaester had not shared his suspicion. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I suspected,” the Archmaester replied with a shrug, “and it isn’t my place to tell secrets.”

“Ok, I can understand that,” Qyburn turned to Martyn and asked, “but, why didn’t you tell us?”

“I can’t control it,” Martyn said looking down at his feet ashamed of his secrecy.

He had other secrets, _Edjiir_ he thought. He hadn’t told anyone about Edjiir, it wasn’t that he mistrusted Darra, Marwyn or Qyburn for that matter. Edjiir was a secret he shared only with Kevan Lannister, it would feel like a betrayal to tell anyone else about the Wyvern.

“We can help you learn control,” Archmaester Marwyn was saying, “but why have you decided to come forward now?”

Martyn described his vision to The Archmaester and Qyburn. How the small creature, one of the Children of the Forest had pulled mysterious weirwood staff from the large white tree and how he felt an overwhelming desire to search for the staff.

“Yes, you definitely need to find that staff.” Marwyn nodded, “Its reemergence into the realm of man is another sign that magic is returning.”

“You have heard of this staff?” Qyburn asked the Archmaester.

“There are several legends concerning a powerful weirwood staff,” Marwyn replied, “but nothing definite.”

“But, you will be able to find it?” Martyn asked hopefully.

“No, I can’t find it,” The Archmaester replied, “It’s quite clear from your vision that it is your destiny to find and wield this staff.”

“Wield it against who?” Martyn asked, he wasn’t a warrior like his brothers, he couldn’t even imagine wielding a weapon, even a magical one.

“Who knows,” the Archmaester said with a shrug, “when the magic returns it will bring both good and bad.”

6

The years had slipped by like a thunderstorm, the occasional loud crash or flash of lightning startling Martyn out of his tedium, like the consent drumming of rain on a rooftop. Martyn had been at the Citadel for five years. Every day was the same he worked in the stables with Archmaester Owen feeding the animals and cleaning their cages, before going to the library where Archmaester Marwyn would assign him books.

Martyn and Darra still regularly went to heal the injuries of the poor in the Seaward district. The sun hadn’t even risen yet when they walked into the Red Lute. The owner, Audrey greeted them as they arrived. The young woman had taken over the brothel when the previous owner, suddenly and mysteriously died.

Audrey had hired a young northerner named Nicolas. The sell-sword kept the most violent men away. Nicolas sat at the bar drinking a steaming cup of brown liquid. The bitter drink originated in the Summer Isles and had recently made its way into the markets of OldTown. Nicolas swore the drink helped him wake up in the morning.

Martyn looked around the room and was startled to see two familiar faces, Archmaester Marwyn and Maester Qyburn sat at the table toward the back of the dusty room. Large mugs of ale sat before each man and they were in the middle of a heated debate.

“You don’t believe that for a second,” Qyburn was saying, shaking his head at the older man.

“What I believe isn’t the issue,” Marwyn replied, “We work within a system.”

“The system is broken, and countless innocents suffer for—.” Qyburn started, interrupted when the Archmaester noticed the two young acolytes.

“Martyn and…young Darra is it?” Marwyn beckoned them over, “…and what brings you to this den of iniquity?”

“Umm…coffee,” Martyn said making up an excuse, Audrey helped the deception by quickly pouring two steaming cup of the brown liquid and handing one to the Martyn and one to Darra.

“I’ve heard of that drink,” Qyburn said, “I might try one.” Qyburn motioned for Aubrey to bring him one.

“What’s the issue today?” Martyn said trying to sound nonchalant as he and Darra joined the older men at the table.

“Morality, or rather the lack there of,” the Archmaester laughed.

“Is it moral to let countless die, women and children, to save one?” Qyburn said.

“Let us ask young Martyn,” Archmaester Marwyn laughed, “a fresh opinion, on this never ending debate.”

“Hmm, yes,” Qyburn looked at Martyn, “is it moral to let countless people die when the sacrifice of one life could save them all?”

“My brothers are knights,” Martyn replied, “they would gladly sacrifice their own lives to save innocents.”

“Yes, but it was their choice to become knights,” the Archmaester said, “What if the person asked to sacrifice wasn’t given the choice?”

“I…I don’t’ know—”

“It would make no difference,” Qyburn interrupted him, “if one life could save many—.”

“The difference is we have to work within the system,” Archmaester Marwyn said, “The Order of Maester wouldn’t allow it and that is the system in which we work.”

Qyburn scoffed at that and shook his head, “the morals of the puny mind.”

“Puny or not, it is the way of things,” the older man laughed.

A beautiful young woman peeked her head out from the back room and beckoned the Archmaester to follow her.

“Speaking of low morality,” the older man chuckled “I have a…uh, an appointment.” 

Marwyn stood and followed the young women into the back. It appeared the visit wasn’t solely about drinking and debate.

Martyn and Darra looked after the Archmaester in shocked silence. Qyburn chuckled and shook his head at their naivety.

“Everyone should break a vow now and again.” The Maester laughed easily.

The two young acolytes blushed bright red and looked at the back room in embarrassment.

“Why are you really here? Breaking that particular vow doesn’t seem either of your style.” Qyburn said nodding at the back room.

Martyn pointed to his raised mug of coffee.

“Please…,” Qyburn scoffed picking up his coffee and taking a sip, “as magical as this elixir is, it is not the true reason you are here.”

Darra sighed and looked uncomfortable, “I am...um...I am a healer, and the women here have no one else to tend to their wounds,” she confessed, seeing no other option than the truth.

“Really?” Qyburn said, “That is quite noble.”

“You won’t tell?” Martyn asked.

“Do you even know me?” the young Maester laughed, “Stupid rules deserve to be broken.”

“And what vows are you planning on breaking today?” Darra looked at him suspiciously.

Qyburn picked up his mug of ale, “Me? I just followed Marwyn. I don’t fault him for his carnal urges, but that is not my weakness. I came for the free ale and the vigorous debate.”

Qyburn took a long drink of his ale before continuing, “How long have you been acting as the healer for this fine establishment?”

“Since my first year,” Darra replied explained, “A woman came to the Citadel with a broken arm. Archmaester Maxamus turned her away, because she was a whore.”

“Maxamus,” Qyburn scoffed and drained his mug, “that great cunt.”

Qyburn gestured for another ale and pointed to Martyn and Darra. The young Maester was getting more than a little drunk.

“I like the idea of bringing medicine and healing to the poor.” Qyburn continued, “We could set up a… a hospital, maybe not in a brothel, of course, but somewhere in the Seaward district. It would help the poor and young novices could learn valuable skills...” his fuzzy brain trailed off.

Darra smiled, “That sounds wonderful.”

Qyburn slammed his mug down on the table startling both of the young acolytes, “Well! Let us do it then!” he announced.

Audrey came over with another mug of ale for Qyburn and one for Martyn. The young Maester twirled his finger in the air in a ‘keep them coming’ motion.

“Put it on Marwyn’s tab.” The Maester said with a laugh.

Darra stood up and said. “I should go check on my…patients.”

“Duty calls,” Qyburn said waving her away. He watched her disappear into the back room before saying. “That is quite a woman you have there.”

“You Know?” Martyn asked.

“Of course I do, I work with her every day.” Qyburn replied, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe. Yet another stupid rule that should be ignored, if women were allowed to study at the Citadel, maybe more women would trust the Maesters.”

“Women don’t trust—?” Martyn started to ask.

“Of course they don’t, why would a woman want some lecherous old fart pawing at her?” Qyburn said shaking his head, “Women trust Wood Witches, even though most don’t know what they are doing.”

“How do you know?” Martyn asked eyeing the man and taking a drink from his mug of ale.

“My mother was a Wood Witch,” Qyburn said, “The ladies of the Dreadfort all came to her, didn’t trust the castle Maester, the vile old fuck.”

Martyn looked at Maester Qyburn, the man had never talked about his life before the Citadel. The ale was loosening his tongue.

“You were born in the north, that would make you a…,” Martyn started to say.

“ A Snow,” Qyburn scoffed, “my father was Lord Bolton.”

Martyn listened and drank as Qyburn talked about his childhood. His mother who had raised him alone. She had been his first instructor. He told Martyn about the early years at the Citadel. How he had met Archmaester Marwyn and his ideas for a better Citadel and a better world.

“Why don’t you become an Archmaester?” Martyn finally asked, “try to put some of your ideas into practice.”

Maester Qyburn picked up his chain, “What do you see?”

Maester Qyburn’s chain was mostly silver. The silver, two Valyrian Steel, one brass, and one yellow gold link clinked together as Qyburn let his chain drop back down to this chest.

“I am a healer, my mother was a healer,” Maester Qyburn said pointing at the table, as if he was arguing with the rough wood. “The higher mysteries are a means to an end, to become a better healer.”


	6. A Door Closes…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visitor from Castamere cheers up Martyn after Qyburn and Marwyn leave for Asshai.

A Door Closes…

1

The cool breeze washed over the three men as they stood silently on the dock, bringing with it the smell of salt and fish. Dockworkers hurried across the deck of the ship like ants near a piece of bread, struggling to lower large crates and barrels below the deck of the ship. The ship’s purple sails fluttered silently in a light breeze.

“How long will you be gone?” Martyn asked he wished he could go with them, but the Citadel had not allowed it.

“Several years at least,” The Archmaester answered.

“I wish those old fucks had allowed you to come with us to Asshai,” Qyburn said trying to console the younger man.

“They want to get rid of us,” The Archmaester scoffed. “We are a danger to their safe little world.”

“But who will teach the Higher Mysteries?” Martyn asked.

“Pycelle,” Qyburn laughed.

“He doesn’t even have a Valyrian Steel link,” Martyn moaned, “How can he possibly teach a subject he knows nothing about?”

“Very few Maesters have Valyrian Steel links,” Marwyn replied.

“And not knowing about a subject has never stopped Pycelle.” Qyburn chuckled.

“What will I do without you?” Martyn said trying not to sniff.

“Use this time to work on your healing and history links,” The Archmaester said with large red-toothed smile. “A well rounded chain is always a good idea.”

Maester Qyburn smiled warmly at Martyn. He knew the young man needed some words of wisdom, he would be all alone in the Citadel now, “Authority hates to be questioned,” Qyburn laughed, “question it anyway.”

Martyn watched the ship skate through the waves until its purple sails had disappeared over the horizon.

Martyn didn’t know it at the time but Asshai would forever change Maester Qyburn, his mentor and his friend. The young Maester who had only wanted to question the status quo and change the world for the better, would sink down a rabbit warren of deceit and lies.

2

After Archmaester Marwyn and Maester Qyburn had left for Essos, Martyn had moped around for several days. However the resistance of youth finally won over the gloom, and life returned to normal. If there was such a thing as a normal life in the Citadel.

The sound of Luwin Karstark singing in his cell was the only noise to shatter the quiet stillness of the warm afternoon. The novice from the North had an impressive voice and the melancholy and chilling tune echoed softly down the halls. No one would ask him to stop, everyone listened and thought of their families far away and lost to them forever. 

Darra leaned her head back against the coarse wall and closed her eyes letting the sad hymn drift over her. She thought of her childhood in the Riverlands, of warm afternoons playing in the Thumblestone river. 

She sat at the foot end of her bed, her back against the wall, a book propped up against Martyn’s feet. The young man had claimed both pillows, and greedily sprawled over most of the bed, his feet resting onto her lap. Martyn also was also quietly reading a book. This was life in the Citadel; reading, reading, and to break up the tedium a little more reading set to the sad melody of Luwin Karstack’s lonely refrain.

A light knock interrupted the peaceful stillness of their room. Darra pushed Martyn feet off her lap and jump up to answer the door. She was confused when an unusually thin old Maester she had never seen before stepped into the cell. Martyn’s reaction was entirely different, a huge smile crossed his young face.

“Maester Avere!” Martyn ran to the door and threw his arms around his old man’s neck.

“Martyn,” the old Maester smiled patting his former student on the back.

The Maester seemed smaller to Martyn, he no longer had to look up into the old man’s face. Martyn had grown tall and willowy since coming to the Citadel.

“Darra this is Maester Avere, my old Maester from Castamere,” Martyn said excitedly.

Darra simply nodded at the old man, not wanting to talk in front of a strange Maester. Even though she had often heard Martyn speak fondly of the old man.

“And this is my cellmate Darra Shadowmire.” Martyn told Maester Avere.

Maester Avere smiled down at her and simply said, “I’m happy to meet you, goodwoman.” 

Both Martyn and Darra’s mouths hung open. Darra’s deception had manage to fool most people. Qyburn had known and maybe Archmaester Marwyn, but they could be trusted. Besides they were in Asshai by now, they might have well been the other side of the world.

Martyn finally asked, “How did you know?”

The old Maester simply smiled and said, “I’m a very old man and I have seen many things.”

Looking at Darra the old man added, “And you are not the first woman to secretly study at the Citadel and you won’t be the last.”

Darra asked timidly, “Are you going to tell?”

“Who am I to tell you, you don’t belong here,” Maester Avere said, “And if young Martyn vouches for you that is enough for me.”

“What are you doing here?” Martyn asked finally.

The old man hobbled over to Martyn’s chair and settled down before answering, “The new Grand Maester has died in the Red Keep. A conclave has been called to decide on another Grand Maester.”

“You’re here to vote in the conclave?” Martyn asked. “I thought only Archmaesters voted.”

“I’ve been nominated for the position of Grand Maester,” the old man smiled.

“Father will miss your council,” Martyn said looking at his old teacher. “But the realm will be thankful.”

The old man nodded, “I almost forget,” he added, “I have letters for you, from your family.”

Maester Avere handed Martyn a bundle of letters and small packages, everyone had written. There was even a letter from Kevan and to Martyn’s pleasant surprise a small package from Joanna Lannister.

Martyn and the Maester Avere talked for several hours. Finally, the old man announced he was tired and left to find his quarters. Not before promising, he would visit again soon.

As they lay in their beds after the old man had left, Darra turned her head to look across the room at Martyn.

“Will he tell?” she asked worry evident in her voice.

“No,” replied Martyn “you can trust him.”

3

Darra returned to their cell that evening, she was exhausted from a day of working at the Small Hospital in the Seaward District.

“Missing Qyburn already?” Martyn asked, it hadn’t take long for Qyburn’s absence to have a negative impact on the organization of the hospital he had founded. 

Darra sighed, “He held us all to the same high standards he set for himself.” 

Martyn nodded, Qyburn had been one of the best medical instructors at the Citadel. Even though he was only a Maester, he did more to teach the healing arts to the young novices and acolytes then any of the Archmaesters. Maester Qyburn expected the best from his students and he got the best. The small hospital had run smoothly and efficiently while Qyburn’s was in charge.

When Archmaester Maxamus took over the running of the hospital, everything changed. The man rarely bothered to visit and when he did, he threw the whole hospital into a state of chaos. Medical treatment denied to all the unworthy masses, the whores and the beggers of Oldtown. Archmaester Maxamus claimed they didn’t contribute to the improvement of Oldtown and society.

“Qyburn’s dream is turning to ash in the hands of that pompous ass Maxamus,” Darra sighed.

“I thought you said Qyburn was a pain in the ass,” Martyn said trying to lighten her bitter mood.

“He was, but he was an capable pain in the ass.” Darra tried to laugh, but could only cross her arms on the table and bend over, resting her head on her arms and moaning. She was glad that Martyn had volunteered to do all their nightly transcribing. She lifted her head only when they heard a small knock at the door.

Martyn got up and let Maester Avere into their room. Martyn assumed the old man was again there to see him. Maester Avere walked over to Darra and laid a small blue vial on the table in front of her. Then he crossed to the other side of the table and motioned Martyn to get up out of his chair.

Picking up the vial she asked, “What is it?”

“I told you,” the Maester said settling down on Martyn’s chair, “You are not the first women to sneak into the Citadel.”

“What does it do?” asked Martyn, he was standing next to Darra and looking down suspiciously at the strange blue vial in her hand.

“Try it,” the old man smiled motioning for Darra to drink the potion, “but just a small sip, it’s rather potent”

Darra looked up at Martyn, a silent question written in her eyes. He nodded. She uncorked the vial and took a small sip.

“What is it supposed—?” She started to ask, but was startled by the sound of her own voice, which cracked before lowering an octave.

“Whoa,” Martyn said stunned, “Is that permanent?”

“No it’s not permanent” the old man said, “I will write the instructions so you can make more.”

“I don’t like it, she sounds…weird,” Martyn said, dropping down on Darra’s bed folding his arms over his chest and sulking. He looked up at Darra and Maester Avere with a scowl.

“Her voice will give her away,” the old man said to Martyn, “this will help hide her identity, at least for a little while longer.”

“What do you mean?” Darra asked looking at the old man.

“You know you can’t hide what you are, forever,” Maester Avere looked at her sadly, “Eventually, your true identity will be discovered.”

“How?” asked Martyn, “We are so careful.”

“For one, The Maesters will start to wonder why she does not grow a beard,” chuckled the old man.

Martyn reached up and scratched his face; at seventeen, he could already feel the light fuzzy hairs beginning to grow under his chin.

“You had to have known when you first came here,” the old man said, “that you couldn’t stay forever.”

“I know,” Darra, said sadly, “I just wanted to learn as much as I could before I had to go.”

Maester Avere nodded, “That is all any of us can do, learn as much as we can before we go.”

4

Maester Avere stayed at the Citadel for over a week. The other Maesters nominated for the position of Grand Maester where busy trying to entice the conclave with, flattery, bribery and even threats. Meanwhile Maester Avere spent most of his time with Martyn and Darra.

The day before the final vote was taken, the old man used his standing as a respected member of the Order of Maesters to take the two young acolytes out to eat at a respectable inn.

It was obvious to his companions that Martyn was excited about something.

Maester Avere finally laughed, “Well, out with it?”

Martyn Maesters chain clinked softly together as he pointed out a new pewter link, his seventh. Martyn had earned enough links to take his Maester vows.

“Well now, we really do have a reason to celebrate.” Maester Avere exclaimed.

5

The young acolytes, Martyn had yet to take his vows, stood in silent vigil outside the door to the Conclave. It seemed like they had stood for hours waiting for Maester Avere. When the old man finally did emerged from the large smoky chamber, he looked both tired and relieved.

Martyn asked, “Do I need to start addressing you as Grand Maester.”

“No,” the Maester smiled, “They chose Archmaester Pycelle.”

“What?” Darra’s voice cracked, “He’s an ass.”

“A much younger ass,” chuckled the old man, “The realm has had three Grand Maesters in just the last three years. They wanted someone younger who wouldn’t die within the first year, for the good of the realm.”

“The good of the realm?” Martyn scoffed. “If they cared about the realm you would have been chosen.” 

“You don’t sound too distraught.” Darra said to Maester Avere.

“I would have done my duty if I was chosen,” The old man answered, “but I would have missed Castamere and the Reynes.”

6

Maester Avere didn’t leave right after the conclave. He had promised to stay until after Martyn took his Maester vows. The old man walked with Martyn to the vault below the Seneschals’ Court. Several Archmaesters waited near the door. Archmaesters Owen nodded and smiled to Martyn as he walked into the small chamber. The night before an Acolyte takes his Maester vows, they had to stand vigil over three black candles.

“Many young acolytes do not even try to light the candles,” Maester Avere told Martyn, “they just sleep or meditate through the night.” 

“Did you try to light the candles?” Martyn asked the old man.

Maester Avere chuckled, “Of course I did.”

“Did anything happen?” Martyn asked.

“No,” the old Maester shook his head sadly, “magic has left the world.”

As Martyn entered the small room, the light from the hall shined like a beacon onto three tall spirals of black obsidian. Martyn stared at the large glass candles as the door closed and the room plunged into darkness.

Martyn sat down and concentrated on the tree glass candles he couldn’t see them, but he knew were still there. He the felt a familiar sensation and light rippled through the room. Suddenly a young woman with long straight black hair emerged from the light. She held a small glass candle that glowed softly in her hands. Two men in long hooded robes accompanied her. The smaller of the two men gently held the young woman’s arm, helping to guide her forward. They were walking along a crumbled stone road that leads through a graveyard of silent dead trees. Up ahead a dark city wall loomed off in the distance. Hundreds of shadows creatures lurked just outside of the radius of candle. Occasionally a shadow rushed forward to dissolve in the light of the candle.

The travelers faded away in wisps of light and Martyn was alone on top of a rocky precipice. At the far end of the large valley, he could see what appeared to be same dark city. He looked down and saw the road he had recently been traveling. The road looked new, there were no cracks, and a coating of mica made it shine brightly in the afternoon sun.

A shadow fell over Martyn with a deafening roar that echoed through the valley. His heart leaped as a large dragon landed on the precipice. The large creature turned to look directly at Martyn. As its large mouth opened, Martyn could see fire building inside its dark throat. Instinctively Martyn raised his hands in a vain attempt to protect himself as a firestorm rolled over him.

The vision faded in a storm of fire and fury. Martyn was once again in the dark room. He could feel the remnants of energy pulsating ahead of him were the three dark candles stood. He reached into the darkness and felt the smooth spiral shape. It was cool to the touch the candles remained dark.

When the door to the chamber opened light streamed in causing Martyn to gasps in pain as the brightness penetrated his dilated pupils. He covered his eyes as two Maester helped him to his feet. Martyn was lead to the Seneschals’ Court where Archmaester Owen officiated the ceremony welcoming Martyn into the Order of Maesters.

7

After Maester Avere had returned to Castamere, Martyn and Darra went back to their chamber. Darra was sitting at the table reading a book, _Archmaester Pylos on Rare Diseases._ Martyn sat on his bed looking through the letters his family had sent. During Maester Avere’s visit, he had time only glance at the correspondences. He wanted to read them again.

He hadn’t even touched the package from Joanna Lannister he did so now. The package contained a small square of white linen embroidered with a red lion. Martyn smiled, lion was wrong, House Reyne’s lion had two tails crossed. The lion Joanna had embroidered had only one tail; it was the Lannister lion painted red. Wrapped inside the embroidered square was a long braided strand of golden blond hair. Martyn held the strand of hair in his fingers looking at it with a lost faraway look in his eyes before he took out his locket and placed the long braid inside.

Darra looked up and sighed. She told herself that it wasn’t jealousy; she wasn’t interested in Martyn in a romantic way. Nevertheless, his love for a woman he could never have wasn’t good for him. The locket however did remind her someone.

“Can I see your locket,” she asked.

Even after all the years they had spent together, she had ever seen the silver locket. Martyn had always kept it tucked safely inside his robe. If the Maesters had discovered the locket, they would have taken it away. The locket was a tie to his family and he was supposed to have broken all ties. He reluctantly took off the locket and handed it to Darra.

“It’s the only connection I have left to my family,” he said sadly.

“And to mine, it would appear” she smiled, turning the locker over.

Darra got up and sat down next to him on the bed. She pointed to a small mark engraved on the back of the silver locket, a silver fish swimming in sunrays.

“My father’s mark,” she said holding the locket close to her heart. “My father made this.” She said lightly.

“I see why he is so prosperous, it’s quite exquisite.” Martyn replied.

“It’s more than that,” Darra said turning the locket to study the front again.

Using the tip of a quill, she pushed down several of the small designs along the base of the locket. Martyn thought he heard a click. The Red enameled lion easily slide forward. A small hidden chamber inside the locket hid a roll of parchment. She took out the parchment out and handed it to him.

“This is yours I believe,” she smiled up at him.

Martyn recognized his father’s script as he read the small parchment.

“What is it?” Darra asked looking up at Martyn.

“A prophecy,” Martyn said sadly remembering his first vision, the destruction of Castamere.

His father had apparently opened a secret account in the Iron Bank for his remaining heirs if anything happened to the family. Martyn put the parchment back inside the locket hoping his father was wrong.

8

The Citadel was in an uproar as the bastards and second sons of many noble houses left the Order of the Maesters to join their brothers and fathers in the war against the Ninepenny Kings. King Jaehaerys had called his banners and many of the houses of the realm had called home all their wayward sons.

The older Maesters growled that they should institute a policy similar to the Knights Watch, with stricter punishments for desertion. The threat of severe punishment did nothing to stem the tide of novices, acolytes, and even a few Maesters returning to their families. Most men under the age of thirty had fled the Citadel.

Archmaester Marwyn periodically sent books from Asshai and Martyn eagerly read them all before handing them over to the Citadel Library. Occasionally they offered a lead on the mysterious weirwood staff. One erroneous book even linked the staff to the myth of Azor ahai, claiming the hero of legend had created the staff first, before he had forged his _sword Lightbringer._ Martyn thought that was rubbish, why would a hero famous for using a sword even create a staff. 

The most believable tome claimed the staff was taken from a weirwood tree by the Children of the Forest to lead them against the coming darkness. They now had some knowledge about what they staff might be, but they were no closer to discovering were it was located. Martyn laid on his bed reading the latest book Archmaester Marwyn had sent. 

Abruptly a strange but familiar feeling came over him. The room faded away, and Martyn stood under an archway. It was raining heavily, a torrent he realized. Kevan Lannister was standing in front of him. However, not the boy he remembered from childhood, the knight that stood before him was a young man of perhaps nineteen.

Martyn could hear his friend talking but the words sounded distorted, as if they were coming from underwater. Suddenly Kevan dropped to his knees and roared in anguish, a wounded lion crying into the rain. Martyn reached out to his friend as the vision faded.

Martyn came out of his trace with tears pouring down his face. He looked around the small empty room. At least Darra was in the infirmary and not here to see him crying like a baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to stay actuate to the books or TV show, but occasionally I had to take some artistic license. Also it been a few years since I read the books. So I may have some details in error.


	7. The Rains of Castamere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter.  
> We knew the destruction of Castamere was coming, but it was still hard to write.

The Rains of Castamere

1

Audrey waved to Martyn and Darra when they walked into the Red Lute “Hello Ladies!” she teased.

Darra winced and looked around to make sure there were no customers, there wasn’t. It was still early in the day. Audrey wouldn’t have said anything if there had been. Martyn and Darra had discovered some time ago the whores in the Red Lute had always known Darra’s secret.

They were just good at keeping secrets. They kept other secrets as well, Audrey came over and handed Martyn two letters from his family. In exchange for Reyne coin, the establishment had become a post for Martyn to send and receive news from Castamere. The letters didn’t arrive as fast as they would with ravens, but even mouths old news was better than none.

With no injuries to treat, Darra and Martyn sat down at a table and ordered two ales. Martyn opened the first letter from his father. The message simply read that Allyn and Corwyn were going to war and urged Martyn to continue his studies and not get involved. Martyn read between the lines and knew his father wanted at least one of his sons out of the way in case the War of the Ninepenny Kings was the cause of the prophesied destruction of House Reyne.

The second letter was from his sister Avilynn, The parchment looked water stained, which wasn’t unusual. Carters who hauled ale casks down from the Westerlands carried his letters. Sometimes the letters got wet along the way. Martyn read silently, a look of growing disbelief on his face.

“What is it?” asked Darra, concerned.

“Avilynn is…pregnant,” he stuttered.

Martyn just stared down at the letter in shock, until Darra broke his trance by asking, “Does your sister say who the father is?”

“The baby’s father…is Kevan.” Martyn stuttered.

“Does he know?” Darra asked.

“No she hasn’t told him, she hasn’t told anyone, she…she even lied to father…she told him the baby’s father was a wine merchants son.”

Darra asked, “Why?”

“There is tension between House Lannister and House Reyne.” Martyn said sadly. His father and brothers had written of the hostility growing between the houses for over a year. His aunt, Lady Ellyn letters were the most vivid.

“Love doesn’t care about houses.” Darra replied.

“They aren’t married.” Martyn said still in shock.

“You don’t have to be married to get pregnant,” Darra simply said.

“Avilynn is a lady.” Martyn said, trying to come to terms with the idea, “Ladies don’t—,”

Darra just interrupted, “Some ladies do. The Maesters treat them occasionally at the Citadel.”

“Have you?” Martyn asked pointedly, instantly regretting his curiosity, he hoped she wouldn’t be offended.

Darra didn’t seem to mind, she laughed, “Of course not, all the men I know think I’m a boy,” than she pointed at him and laughed, “Except for you.” 

Martyn gulped, “you’re not like a real girl…. You’re my best friend.”

She just patted his hand, “I know.” Then she asked unashamedly, “Have you?”

“What? No! My Maester’s vows,” he said shocked.

“Since when have you cared anything about your Maester’s vows?” She said looking him straight in the eyes, “Martyn Reyne!”

“Well it would also be a betrayal of…” he couldn’t finish.

“…A betrayal of Joanna.” She finished for him.

“Well yes.” Martyn said touching the silver locket tucked in his robe.

“She’s betrothed to Tywin Lannister.” Darra said plainly.

“I know,” He said, looking away from her accusing eyes. 

“You can never be with her.”

“I know.” 

“You’re hopeless.”

“I know.” 

2

The Citadel rose like new moon, Majestic and awe inspiring, on a cliff high above the River Honeywine. Martyn and Darra had climbed down to the river to be alone. They walked along the shoreline of the Honeywine in silence. Martyn wanted to get away from the noise and activity in the Citadel. The letters from his father and his sister had been upsetting. 

Martyn suddenly stopped he felt a strange feeling weaving through his body. He knew what was happening. He turned toward Darra just as his eyes turned from bluish gray to icy white. Darra and the Honeywine disappeared from his vision.

He was once again in Castamere, in the lower hall. The chamber was full of frightened servants and retainers. His father lay feverish in a large bed it looked like he was injured. Maester Avere sat next to the Red Lion tending his wounded leg. The old Maester gestured for someone to come forward. Martyn saw his mother and sister approach the bedside. Avilynn was holding a small baby in her arms, she knelt down and placed the child in her father’s arms. Lord Reyne smiled down at his first grandchild and whispered into the baby’s ear.

His mother and sister suddenly turned and looked to the entrance of the lower hall, fear shattering their faces. When Martyn turned he saw this brothers and uncle across the room standing next to the large bolted door that lead to the main level and the Great Hall of Castamere. The knights appeared to stand frozen in time as the door burst open and a torrent of water poured into the lower level of the keep.

“Allyn! Corwyn!” Martyn shouted reaching out to his brothers as the deluge washed over them. 

The hall went dark as murky water smothered the torches. Somehow, Martyn was able to see through the murky black water, his family floating lifeless in the shadowy water.

Martyn gasped was water began to fill his lungs. He knew it was real and he was about to die with his family. He didn’t fight it; he just let his body go limp. He didn’t want to live without them. Then he heard Darra pleading with him to come back.

Martyn sat up, his hands clutching the sand on the shore of the Honeywine as he coughed up water from his lungs.

“Their gone,” Martyn weeped, “Their all gone.” 

3

Martyn refused to leave his bed days, Darra brought food that he refused to eat. When he finally emerged from his cell, it was obvious from the looks he received from the other Maesters that a raven had arrived with news from the Westerlands.

Luwin Karstark found Martyn in the library and told him Archmaester Owen wanted to see him in his study. The Archmaester looked up, sympathy written on his face as Martyn entered his study.

“I see from your expression that someone has told you of the news from the Westerlands,” the kindly old Archmaester said, motioning Martyn to a chair. “It would have been…better had they waited for me to talk to you first...”

Martyn nodded and sat down silently, concentrating the old and worn carpet.

“… Before you did anything…rash,” the old Archmaester continued. “It’s true there are no sever punishments for those who leave the Order of Maesters. We are not the Nights Watch.”

Martyn nodded unable to respond his mind a cloud of confusion, a storm of agony, the rain full of ghost.

“You are now the sole remaining heir of House Reyne,” the Archmaester continued, “but before you make any hasty decisions, remember you are safe here in the Citadel.”

“They killed my whole family,” Martyn shivered a hint of pain in his voice.

Archmaester Owen got up and looked out the window, “Out there,” the old man said, “You would be alone, your house is gone, your family is gone, and your families’ fortune is now in the hands of the Lannisters.” 

Martyn just sat completely still he knew if he spoke, he would say or do something rash.

“Tywin Lannister can’t touch you as long as you remain inside the Citadel.” The old Archmaester said softly, “Stay here and you will be safe.”

After the meeting, Martyn walked back to his cell in silence. Darra struggled to keep up with his long strides. When they returned to their chamber Martyn sat down on his bed and stared at nothing. Darra sat down next to him and waited for him to speak.

When Martyn finally spoke, he was so quiet Darra barely heard him, “Archmaester Owen said, Tywin Lannister can’t touch me as long as I stay in the Citadel.” 

“He’s right, the Citadel is the safest place for you now,” Darra said.

“Do you honestly think I’m safe here?” Martyn interrupted, “do you think that Tywin Lannister will just let the last heir of Castamere live out his life in peace.”

“I don’t know.” Darra trembled.

Martyn said, “I have to leave the Citadel.” 

“And you are going to do what? Avenge your family? How are you going to do that?” Darra cried, “Your uncle and brothers were knights and they couldn’t stop this from happening.

“Are you really suggesting I do nothing?” Martyn asked angrily.

“It’s what your father wanted,” Darra reminded him, “He wanted you to live.”

Martyn said quietly. “I can’t stay here,” 

Darra nodded and looked at him, “Then, I’m coming with you.”

“Why? This isn’t your fight,” the last heir of Castamere replied.

She looked up into his eyes and said, “It is my fight as long as you are my friend.”

4

It was dark and quiet as Martyn and Darra made their way out of the Citadel. The Cobblestone walkway darkened as storm clouds gently rolled across the night sky, temporarily cloaking the full moon in dark shadows. The arcade running along the east side of the Scribe’s Hearth hid their escape through the courtyard.

Suddenly a dark figure stepped from the shadows blocking their path. The dark clouds shifted away from the moon to reveal a young knight clad in crimson armor. 

“Did Tywin send you?” Martyn asked as the young knight stepped from the shadows.

“Yes,” Kevan Lannister breathed, sorrow in his green eyes.

“To kill me?” Martyn knew the answer. He just needed Kevan to suffer the words.

“…Yes…to kill you,” Kevan said, the pain efficient in his voice.

“You murdered my family because Tywin told you too. Do you do everything Tywin tells—?”

“I’m a Lannister, don’t ask me to betray my house?” Kevan cried miserably.

“You betrayed my house!” Martyn yelled at his childhood best friend.

The young knight’s face drained of emotion as he drew his sword. A flash of lightning illuminated the darkness causing the blade to ripple with blue light. Kevan wasn’t looking at Martyn, his emerald eyes looking at the dark rain clouds resting low in the sky. 

“Do it!” Martyn shouted in rage as he took a step toward the knight.

“No!” Darra gasped, clutching at Martyn’s arm and trying to pull him away.

Martyn shook off her hands and taking another step forward screamed, “But you look me in the eyes when you kill me!”

When the rain started to hammer the cobblestones, Kevan shivered. The rain filled with the ghosts of Castamere.

He finally lifted his head to meet Martyn’s gaze. His green eyes had filled with tears that rolled down his handsome face. “I...I can’t…Martyn,” Kevan pleaded softly, “go… find someplace to hide.”

“She was...they were there…at Castamere.” Martyn said as he pulled his sister’s last letter out of his satchel and threw the parchment at Kevan. Martyn left Kevan standing along in the rain.

Martyn never looked back, there was no need, because he had seen it all in his vision. He smiled in revenge and he heard a roar of anguish, like a wounded lion echoing through the courtyard.


	8. The Silversmith's Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martyn and Darra hide out in the Riverlands.

Chapter Six

The Silversmith’s Daughter

1

The old wagon creaked and complained loudly as a single old horse pulled a disheveled young couple into the market town of Riverrun. The large town named for the castle that stood nearby on the confluence of the Trident and the Tumblestone Rivers. 

The couple stopped in front a large four story stone building on the banks of the Tumblestone River. The workshop of a prosperous silversmith took up the ground floor of the building. The other three levels were the silversmith’s home. The sign painted over the door depicted a silver fish swimming in sunrays, underneath the words , _Rivers Silversmith,_ painted in blue letters.

“You’re a Rivers?” asked Martyn looking at Darra in astonishment.

“No, my father is a Rivers.” She said jumping down from the wagon and walking to the door of the workshop.

Dardan Rivers was a large man whose auburn hair had begun to turn white. The silversmith looked up from the pendent he was working on when the door to his workshop opened. The silversmith’s apprentice hurried forward to intercept the rough looking couple before they could disturb the master artisan. A large friendly smile spread across on the round face of the silversmith.

“Father,” Darra sobbed.

“Darrya! You’ve come home!” He exclaimed happily, as his daughter ran into his arms.

Martyn and the confused apprentice looked on while Darra and her father shared a happy reunion. Finally, Dardan told the Martyn and Darra to go upstairs to clean up and rest after their long journey and he would join them at dinner. 

“Darrya?” laughed Martyn as they climbed the stairs.

A large older woman who hugged Darra warmly as they entered her childhood home greeted them. The woman introduced herself to Martyn as Maggie the housekeeper, before giving Martyn a warm hug as well.

Although Darra’s home wasn’t as grand as Castamere, it was comfortably warm and larger than many keeps of landed knights. The home was even finer than the most prosperous artisan could reasonable afford. Martyn wondered, _just who was Dardan Rivers’ father._

Martyn couldn’t sleep in the room he was given. He missed Darra’s company, so he decided to go search for her. Darra’s room was on the top floor of the large home. She didn’t seem at all surprised when he quietly slipped inside and shut the door behind him.

“Hey, Chipmunk,” he said cheerfully. “I can’t sleep without your snores.”

She merely scoffed at the comment.

Martyn looked around her childhood bedroom; the furniture was finer than anything he had seen since leaving Castamere.

“Your home is nice.” He said looking around; he noticed a fine figurine of a fish made of gold and silver on the mantel. He picked it up to look at it closer. Its sapphires eyes glittered in the light of the fire.

“A gift from my grandfather on my fifth nameday.” She said taking the fish and placing it carefully back on the mantel.

“Just who was your grandfather?” Martyn asked, “If you don’t mind telling.”

“Lord Edel Tully, the Lord Paramount of the Trident.” she replied simply. “He died when I was ten.” 

“That would explain that mop of red hair you have.” Martyn laughed. Walking over to her large bed, he looked back at her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, you know I wouldn’t do anything…. you know…but can I please lie down on your bed, I haven’t slept on a feather bed since I left Castamere.”

She only laughed, “Go ahead, I know I how you feel.”

They both flopped down on the bed together, laughing. That is where Maggie found them later that evening, fast asleep. She was relieved they were lying on top of the blankets and still fully clothed.

When they awoke, they found a washbasin and towels. Clean clothes sat neatly folded on a chair by the fire. The clothes had once belonged to Darra’s mother and father when they were still young. The dress was a fine dark blue silk. The tunic had a trout embroidered on the front. Martyn looked at the fish sadly tracing the design with his fingers.

“I’m sorry it’s not a lion,” Darra said patting him on the back.

“It’s alright,” Martyn said, silently also wishing it was a red lion.

2

“You look so much like your mother,” Dardan said fondly when Darra and Martyn entered the dining hall, “except you have my hair.” He said brushing her shoulder length auburn hair with his callused hand.

They all sat at one end of a large table. Martyn looked around the large room. It wasn’t a Great Hall, but it was large and tastefully decorated. Lord Edel had been very generous to his bastard son.

“So, you two meet at the Citadel, I assume?’ Dardan asked looking at them curiously.

Darra nodded, not really wanting to tell her father they had shared the same room for the last six years. 

“I was at the Citadel for three years myself; I managed to forge five links.” Darden said looking at Martyn, “It was there I learn to work in silver.”

Martyn nodded enthusiastically. “Really? Darra never told me.”

“Oh yes, my years at the Citadel were the happiest days of my life, until I meet Darrya’s mother, of course.” Dardan said winking at Darra, “I’m afraid all my fantastic stories of life at the Citadel may have inspired her. I was a bad influence.” 

“Father, you did inspire me but you were never a bad influence.” Darra said to her father fondly.

Dardan patted her hand, “of course I couldn’t say no when she said she wanted to study at the Citadel,” he continued, “she is smart and so much like her mother, stubborn and does what she wants.”

“Was Darra’s mother at the Citadel too?” asked Martyn curiously. _It would explain a lot._ Martyn thought.

“No, not at the Citadel, but I did meet her in Oldtown, she was the daughter of one of Lord Hightower’s sworn knights.” Dardan Rivers smiled a faraway look in his eyes. 

3

The next morning he found Darra eating breakfast in the kitchen. Martyn sat down next to her while Maggie handed him a plate of bread and sausages. They ate in silence until Maggie left to draw water from the well, leaving the young couple alone in the kitchen.

Martyn looked over at Darra, “You never talk about your mother.” 

“She died when I was still very young,” Darra replied. “I hardly remember her.”

Martyn looked at her sadly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

They looked into the fire burning in the hearth. Darra’s childhood home was warm and comfortable, but Martyn knew he couldn’t stay.

He finally said. “I can’t stay, it’s nice here, but Riverrun is too crowded, I can’t take the chance someone might recognize me.”

Darra only nodded, “We’re not staying. We’re going to Shadow Mire.”

Martyn looked at her in surprise, “Just what is a Shadow Mire? It sounds ominous.”

“It’s a tower house in the Shadow Mire forest north of the Tumblesone River.” Darra said, “My Grandfather, Lord Edel, gifted the land to my father so he could be a landed knight. However, father never wanted to be a knight and he would rather live in town.

Martyn laughed, “I don’t blame him, who would want to live in a swamp?”

Darra looked up at him and smiled, “Well you do, because it’s isolated.”

“And this swamp house is yours now?” Martyn asked.

“It’s not a swamp house,” She growled, “and yes it passed to me in the hopes I would marry a knight,” 

“And…are you planning on marrying a knight?” He laughed.

“I am not going to marry a knight,” she said firmly “just so he can claim my inheritance.”

When they told Dardan Rivers that they were going to Shadow Mire, he wasn’t pleased. “That run-down tower on Shadow Mire is little better than a shack in the woods.”

“It’s large in comparison to our cell at the Citadel.” She laughed, before she saw the look on Dardan Rivers face.

“Father I —,” Darra stuttered.

Dardan Rivers just held up his hand. “I trust you and I trust your judgment. Not that I could do a damn thing about it even if I didn’t…stubborn as you are.” He said sarcastically.

“Father, you know I always wanted to help the smallfolk, there are no healers anywhere near Shadow Mire.” Darra told him. “Martyn and I can do some real good.”

“And if this…” Dardan said motioning to the two of them, “whatever this is…doesn’t work out.”

“I promise, Darra and I are… just friends, I never did…would never do anything to hurt her.” Martyn tried to reassure him.

Dardan merely nodded before saying sternly, “Just make sure you don’t,” before adding, “but I thank you for bringing my daughter home.”

4

Shadow Mire was indeed a ruin. The vine covered old tower house sat on a dry patch of land in the middle of a swamp. The large woodland surrounding the swamp shared the same name. A worn earthen causeway connected the island to the shore.

The first floor of the keep was one large room of unfinished stone. The tower was huge compared to their cell at the Citadel, just as Darra had said. The fireplace located against the east wall didn’t look large enough to heat the entire room. 

There had been four more floors above but most of the walls of upper floors had worn away and crumbling. The lower floor was a maze of cobwebs and dust filled every corner. Darra set about cleaning the dust and cobwebs away before setting up an apothecary cabinet in one corner.

Shadow Mire was so isolated that Martyn felt quite safe. A few families lived on the edge of the forest. After Darra had set a few broken bones and birthed one baby, the smallfolk began to trust them. The smallfolk did call them, respectively the witch, and the warlock of the Shadow Mire, but never to their faces.

5

Every day Martyn would explore the nearby woods. He thought he could help Darra by gathering plants she could use to make medicines. While he explored he often wondered if coming here was the right decision. It was Darra’s dream to help the smallfolk, and he wanted to support her. They had been together for so long and he couldn’t imagine being somewhere she wasn’t.

Martyn’s dream had always been a life of study. How could he do that, hiding in a far corner of the Riverlands? He was deep in his own misery when he looked up. Martyn felt his heart leap in his chest. 

The large white tree stood in the center of a small clearing deep in the woods. The brilliant red leaves of the weirwood fluttered lightly in the breeze. He stood for hours just staring up at the trees smiling face. The light was beginning to fade when he finally stepped forward, reached out, and touched the laughing face of the tree. “What should I do —?” His eyes suddenly turned icy white.

Darra woke up as the morning as the bright morning sun shined onto her face. She looked over at Martyn’s bed on the other side of the large room, but he wasn’t there. Martyn had left the door open and sunlight shone into the keep. Dust glittered in the morning sunrays.

She got up grumbling, any number of animals could have wondered into the keep. _Martyn would probably like that, animals running all over the keep, _she thought.__

____

Martyn strolled in a few minutes later smiling happily. “Come with me, I want to show you something.” He said excitedly as he took her hand. 

____

Martyn carried a satchel was they started into the woods. “It’s quite far, so I packed a lunch.” He told her cheerfully.

____

It was a pleasant day for a walk and Darra didn’t mind the long trek into the woods. 

____

When she asked where they were going. “It’s a surprise,” was all he said.

____

When they reached the clearing Darra eyes went wide. “Is that —?”

____

Martyn just nodded and smiled. They approached the weirwood tree and stood looking up at it for a few minutes. Finally, Martyn took a deep breath and said. “I heard once when the smallfolk in the north marry they don’t have grand ceremonies like the nobles do, they stand before a weirwood tree and swear to always be together”

____

He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes, “You’re my best friend and… and I can’t imaging not being with you.” He stuttered, “I want us to always be together, swear with me.”

____

She couldn’t speak; she just stared at him in astonishment. She suddenly realized she had always felt the same way, for so long she had denied her true feelings, even to herself.

____

“I love you, I do, Darrya Shadowmire.” Martyn looked into her eyes, scared for a second that the vision the tree had showed him was wrong.

____

“I will,” she finally shuddered.

____

Martyn smiled and reaching down pulled a dark red cloak from his satchel. It was the same cloak he wore the day he arrived at the Citadel so many years ago. Darra turned around and let him place his cloak gently on her shoulders. “Darrya Shadowmire, I take you under my protection,” he whispered in her ear before turning her back around to look into her large brown eyes.

____

Martyn took her hand in his and started to wrap a worn silk ribbon around their entwined hands as they spoke the oath together, “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.” They looked into each other’s eyes, “I am hers, and she is mine… I am his and he is mine…from this day until the end of my days."

____

Martyn drew her close, stopping only when their lips were barely touching. Martyn paused for a second to feel her breath on his lips. It was so intoxicating he didn’t want the moment to end. Finally, he closed the distance between them. They kissed gently while the weirwood watched silently.

____

Martyn laid a blanket on the soft ground under the tree. He reached for her hand and said. “Lady Reyne,” before pulling her down onto the blanket.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a little romantic, sorry about that I really don't know how to write romance. Comments are always welcome as I really don't know if this is any good.


	9. Shadow Mire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martyn and Darra have finally found happiness in Shadow Mire.

Chapter Seven

Shadow Mire

1

Martyn awoke from his vision, only to see the eyes of his five-year old daughter, Talawyn looking down at him. The child wasn’t scared she had often seen her father’s eyes turn icy white, she knew he would be back soon from wherever he had gone. Martyn often took Talawyn with him while he visited the weirwood. His visions were stronger when the young girl was nearby. The connection his daughter had with the old weirwood was no surprise, the little girl had been conceived under the ancient trees protective branches and smiling face. 

As Martyn gathered up his pack Talawyn hugged the tree, “Goodbye Taimi.” she said sweetly.

Martyn smiled, _who knew weirwood trees had names._ Talawyn was only two-years old, she declared the name of the tree was Taimi.

“That’s a pretty name,” Martyn had said, “how did you come up with it?”

“She told me,” Talawyn had declared pointing at the old tree, “It’s because she is the youngest of all the weirwoods.”

2

Martyn could hardly believe he was once conflicted about staying in Shadow Mire, now he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. The old weirwood tree, _Taimi,_ had shown him visions of the past.

Martyn watched as thousands of years before the first men came to Westeros, the last water dragon had fled into a cave to lay its eggs, before a giant had killed it. He had seen the Children of the Forest preform magic rites in groves of standing rocks. He had witnessed as the first men stepped onto the shore of Westeros. The old tree had also shown him the path of the weirwood staff over hundreds of years from the far north of Westeros until it finally disappeared from sight as it left Oldtown’s docks six hundred years ago. Some mysteries were not found in dusty old books.

3

There were so many happy memories in Shadow Mire. Martyn smiled thinking back on the last six years. Darra’s father Dardan Rivers had not been happy about their rustic wedding. He insisted that the young couple retake their vows in front of a septon and witnesses. His grandchild would not be born a bastard.

The silversmith had dragged old septon Steffon out to Shadow Mire to preside over the ceremony. Their witness was none other than the Dowager Lady Sansa Tully, and her young granddaughter Catelyn. Lady Sansa, the small but feisty elderly matron of Riverrun had warm blue eyes and a kind smile.

After the ceremony, the dowager tapped Martyn on the shoulder and whispered. “Lord Reyne, may I have a word?” 

Martyn swallowed and looked around, no one had noticed. He followed the old dowager for a private word.

“Don’t try to deny it,” the dowager said when they were alone, “I grew up in the Westerlands, and I knew your grandfather. You have that Reyne look, blue-grey eyes and dark hair.”

“I thought we were finally safe,” Martyn sighed, trying to figure out his next move.

“You are,” the dowager patting his hand, “you and my granddaughter are safe here as long as you wish to stay. However, if you ever want to reclaim your home and title you will have the support of House Tully and the Riverlands.”

“Why? Darra…she isn’t your…real grandchild,” Martyn stated, a little confused about their relationship, most highborn ladies wouldn’t be as accepting of their husbands bastards or their children.

“Lord Edel was faithful during our marriage,” the dowager explained “Dardan was born years before I ever met Lord Edel.”

The Dowager looped her arm around Martyn’s and smiled up at him. “I love my boys, Hoster and Bynden, but so many boys!” the old dowager laughed shaking her head, “Men want boys to carry on their names, I always wanted a girl. Until my little Catelyn was born, Darra was all I had.”

4

Across the causeway, Shadow Mire stood like a silent sentinel in the dense forest. Martyn froze when he saw an unfamiliar horse tied near the old tower. None of the smallfolk in Shadow Mire could own such a fine animal. _Is it the day the Lannisters have finally caught up to me,_ Martyn worried. A knight, wearing a dark grey cloak decorated with the sigil of a white horse, exited the tower house. He was drinking from a large mug of ale. When he saw Martyn and Talawyn, he waved before casually sitting down at a wooden table near the tower.

Ser Dain Haely would have had to ride half the day to reach Shadow Mire from his father’s Keep, Summerfield, on the banks of the Tumblestone River. Martyn had become friends with the young knight four years ago, when he had come to the witch of the Shadow Mire to mend his broken leg. Martyn put Talawyn down and followed the little girl as she ran to the knight. 

“What brings you to Shadow Mire?” Martyn smiled as he joined Ser Dain at the table.

“I was at Oldtown last month and found a book you might like.” Dain walked to his horse and took a large tome from his saddlebag before handing the book to Martyn. Written in Valyrian it said, _Warlocks of Quath._

“Where’s my squire?” Ser Dain laughed as he saw Darra come out of the tower with another mug of ale for Martyn. Ser Dain had offered to make Martyn and Darra’s second child, Browyn his squire when the boy was old enough. Darra winced she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted her young son to be knighted and possibly die in some war far from home.

It was an incredible opportunity for the child. Dain’s father, Ser Parvan was a landed knight who employed most of the smallfolk in the region and more than a few hedge knights to care for and watch his large herds of fine white warhorses.

The door creaked open behind them as Maggie came out of the tower house carrying two-year-old Browyn. Maggie had come to live with Darra and Martyn after Talawyn was born.

“He’s finally awake,” Maggie smiled and handed the baby to Dain’s outstretched hands.

“There he is!” Ser Dain smiled down at the young child, “Ser Browyn of Shadow Mire.”

Browyn giggled happily up at the young knight. Unlike his sister, who had her mother’s auburn hair and big brown eyes, Browyn looked like a Reyne with dark ash brown hair and bluish gray eyes.

“Come child, let your parents talk to Ser Dain in private,” Maggie told Talawyn taking the young girls hand. Dain handed the baby back to the old woman and they watched as she took both children back into the house.

“Action, was attacked by a lion,” Dain told Martyn, after the children had left, “I was hoping you would come to Summerfield and take a look at him.” 

Action was Ser Dain’s favorite horse. Even though Ser Parvan employed many grooms to care for the horses at Summerfield, none of them had Martyn’s extensive knowledge of animal anatomy. Martyn was the only person Ser Dain trusted with his favorite horse.

Martyn looked at Darra, traveling to Summerfield and back would take two days at least, let alone the time it would take to care for the wounded animal. He didn’t want to leave Darra alone for that long.

“Go, we will be fine and Maggie is here to help me,” She smiled and patted his hand.

5

Martyn led his horse Owen out of the stable. The brown rouncey had a white star shaped mark between his eyes. Owen whinnied impatiently while Martyn said goodbye to his family.

Martyn crouched down to whisper in his daughter’s ear, “Take care of your mother and baby brother while I’m gone.” 

Talawyn hugged her favorite toy, a small stuffed red lion tightly and muffled a sob. “Ok Papa.”

Martyn rose up to look into at his wife eyes. Darra handed him a small vial of medicine for Dain’s father, “Give this to Ser Parvan, for the pain in his legs, and tell that crotchety old knight to leave the horses to the younger knights.”

He brushed her long red hair away from her face. “I’ll be back in a day or two.” 

He drew her into a long embrace before he tilted her head up to look into her eyes. Martyn kissed her lips lightly. “I love you Chipmunk.” 

“I love you,” Darra smiled up at him before adding, “Come back soon.”

Martyn turned around to wave to his family one last time before he and Ser Dain rode away from Shadow Mire.


	10. Iron Lions and Steel Horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is maybe the last chapter. Sorry I ended it on a sorrowful note.

Iron Lions and Steel Horses

1

It was dusk when Martyn and Dain finally emerged from the forest of Shadow Mire and onto the Summerfield plains. The grassland stretched all the way to the Trumblestone River. In the distance, they could see the large herds of fine white horses owned by Ser Dain’s father driven into corrals for the night.

As they approached Summerfield Keep, Martyn saw a large contingent of soldiers in crimson armor camped next to a small stream that ran past the Keep. Dain’s father Ser Parvan was talking to a young lord in a purple and white chequy tunic. Martyn recognized the heraldry as belonging to House Payne, a vassal of House Lannister. He looked at his friend Dain in confusion, not wanting to think the worst.

“Lannisters have come to buy horses from my father,” was all the knight said.

Ser Dain didn’t show any sign of guilt as he stirred his horse forward. _I’m just being paranoid,_ Martyn thought. Dain’s father raised the finest warhorses in the Seven Kingdoms and of course, Tywin would need horses for his army. Dain after all had no idea that his friend Martyn of Shadow Mire was actually Martyn Reyne, heir to Castamere.

Martyn still kept a wary eye on the soldiers as he rode to the stables. Inside Action, Dain’s favorite horse was a patchwork of deep scratches. Martyn soon forgot all about Lannisters and bannermen as he tended to the wounded animal.

“It looks bad, but you should have seen the lion,” Ser Dain laughed, “Action made the beast regret he ever messed with a Summerfield stallion.”

“He managed to fight the lion off?” asked Martyn stroking Action’s long neck.

“He crushed that lion’s skull,” laughed Dain, “I have a new lion skin rug sitting in front of my hearth.”

“I wouldn’t tell your…guests about your latest acquisition.” Martyn said with a laugh.

As Martyn and Dain cleaned the horse’s wounds, they could hear the soldiers singing loudly outside, like all soldiers the Lannister men seemed to favor _The Bear and the Maiden Fair._

“You think they know a different song?” Martyn scoffed after they had heard the same song several times in a row. As if in answer to his question, after a short pause a different song drifted into the stables. 

Martyn had never heard the song before. The melody was haunting and beautiful, but the words sent a shiver down his spine.

“…A coat of gold a coat of red. A lion still has claws…” drifted into the stable.

Dain sneered, “Singing that song isn’t going to work.”

“What is it?” Martyn asked, “I’ve never heard it before.”

“I guess you’re kind of secluded out there in the middle of your swamp.” the young knight laughed, “it’s called, The Rains of Castamere, they sing it to intimidate their enemies.”

Ser Dain stood up to glare out the doors of the stable. “They’re trying to intimidate my father, it won’t work if they want our horses they will pay what they are worth.”

The ethereal song continued to drift through the stable as Martyn tended the wounded animal. “…And now the rains weep o’er his halls with no one there to hear...” As he finished wrapping Action’s wounds, Martyn thought bitterly. _There still is someone left you bastards._

Ser Dain offered to stand vigil over the wounded animal horse while Martyn slept. Martyn was sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but the young knight told him to try to get some rest. When Martyn laid down on a pile of hay, exhaustion overtook him almost immediately.

2

Martyn awoke the next morning when he heard the door to the stable open. Martyn opened his eyes as Ser Parvan ambled into the stable. The old knight’s weathered face was a canyon of deep furrows. Grey hair hung loosely from the old man’s head and a long moustache reached down past his chin. The old knight’s gait was of a man who had spent many, many years on a horse. 

“He seems to be doing better.” The old man said in a gruff voice, rubbing the stallion’s long neck.

“Lion are no match for a Summerfield stallion.” Dain laughed.

“They better get up for the task soon,” The old knight chuckled, “I’ve just sold a hundred head to the Lannister army.”

Ser Dain nodded, “I’m surprised he sent a bannerman to negotiate such a large purchase.” 

“Yes, well, Tywin Lannister is celebrating the birth of his first children, twins I hear.” Ser Parvan replied.

When Martyn stirred, the old knight looked over and noticed he was awake. “Good Morning Martyn,” the old man smiled, “thank you for coming so soon, my grooms were sure Action wouldn’t survive the night.”

Martyn nodded at the old knight, "Action is a strong horse he should be fine after a few days of rest." 

Martyn got up he handed the old knight the vial of medicine Darra had given him. When the old man heard Darra’s instructions, Ser Parvan just scoffed good-naturedly. “I appreciate your good wife’s concern, but that’s not going to happen anytime soon.” 

Martyn checked Action’s wounds; the horse was well on the road to recovery. After a light breakfast Martyn and Ser Dain rode off while it was still early, hoping to make it back to Shadow Mire by late afternoon.

3

They saw smoke rising from the tower well before Shadow Mire came into view. When they reached the tower, Martyn and Dain jumped down from their horses. Maggie was lying in a pool of blood in front of the keep. While Dain checked the old woman, Martyn ran into the tower shouting for Darra and the children.

Martyn found his wife collapsed on the floor next to the hearth, Darra moaned softly as he picked her up gently and carried her to their bed. She opened her eyes painfully, “the children,” she cried trying to grab at Martyn’s arms, “they took the children.”

“Who were they?” he asked.

“Ironborn,” Darra cried, “Maggie and I tried to stop them but they…they…” she just buried her head into Martyn chest and sobbed.

As Martyn looked at Darra lying shivering on the bed, he couldn’t help but think of the young girl Holly, who they had tried to save so many years ago in the Oldtown Brothel. He tried for hours, but he didn’t have Darra’s skill at healing. In the end, all he could be was hold her and stroke her long red hair, and beg her not to die.

She looked up into Martyn’s eyes, “Martyn…please save our children,” she whispered before she closed her eyes one last time.

Martyn sat by her side for a long while before Ser Dain came in laid his hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry Martyn. She was a good woman, she didn’t deserve this, and your family didn’t deserve this.”

They buried Darra and Maggie behind the tower before riding after the Ironborn raiders. The pirates from the Iron Islands hadn’t even bothered to hide their tracks. They tracked the pirate’s path through the forest for two days before they emerged onto a wide plain that stretched all the way to Ironman’s Bay. Wisps of black ugly smoke rose on the horizon.

4

Dusk had already begun to settle on the plains when Martyn and Dain rode up to a site where a fierce battle had recently taken place. Smallfolk who farmed in the region had already arrived. The farmers had looted the dead for coins and weapons, before throwing the corpses onto a large pyre. Many of the small broken bodies were children already burned beyond recognition.

The surviving captives were huddled together near a small fire. Ser Dain recognized a young lad around fifteen years old from one of the villages on his father’s land.  
Ser Dain knelt down beside a young man, “what happened here?”

The young man told them he was taken captive when the Ironborn attacked his village. He and the other captives were tied together, mostly women and children and forced to march east. A few nights ago, a large company of crimson knights on white horses had descended on them.

“The fools probably crossed the Lannister’s perimeter and were spotted by their sentries.” Ser Dain said, “Most of those ‘knights on white horses’ were probably just regular Lannister infantry.” 

Martyn searched the faces of the surviving captives; Talawyn and Browyn were not among them. He looked back at the young man, “What happened to the Children?”

The young man shivered as he told them how the Ironborn had used the captives, even the smallest children as shields against the attacking knights. The tactic had worked for a while as the knights had hesitated. However, eventually the Lannister’s army had overwhelmed the raiders with sheer numbers. Many of the captives had been injured or killed in the crossfire.

“We need to get a raven to my father,” Dain finally said, “I think Harrenhal is close.”

5

The wilted walls of Harrenhal rose above them when they arrived at the large fortress. Horns sounded their arrival from high towers as Martyn and Dain road into the large and bustling courtyard. As they dismounted, Harrenhal’s young Lord Walter Whent greeted them.

After Ser Dain explained the situation to Lord Whent, the young lord called for his Maester to send ravens to all the nearby keeps. Lord Whent also assured them his knights would escort any surviving prisoners back to their homes. When the Lord Whent asked if he could do anything for them, Martyn only asked if he could pray in the godswood.

Tall pines and Sentinels dominated Harrenhal’s godswood. In the center, a huge weirwood stood like a silent sentry. The scowling face carved into the tree was the opposite of the happy face of the weirwood in the Shadow Mire. Martyn sank to his knees in front of the large white tree, as he reached out to touch the roots of the weirwood his eyes snapped open and turned icy white.

Darra stood before him, her long auburn hair flowed behind her as she turned and ran down a narrow forested path. Martyn ran after his wife, calling to her to stop. When she finally did, Darra turned around and pointed up into a tree overhead. A large raven sat on a low branch it cawed loudly before it flapped its wings and flew north. Darra smiled up at her husband before she faded away in wisps of fog.

Down the path, Martyn saw another figure. The man was watching the raven. Dark ash brown hair hung limply down to the man’s shoulders. He moved in a graceful catlike motion as he turned to look at Martyn. At first Martyn thought it was his his brother Corwyn, the man looked similar his brother. However, the strangers face, worn and ragged, as if he had spent years living a coarse and hard life. The man hooked his thumbs into his belt, his bluish grey eyes looked straight at Martyn before he smiled smugly and turned north to follow the raven’s path.

“Browyn!” Martyn gasped as the vision faded away and he was again kneeling before the angry face of the weirwood tree. _It's what Browyn would have looked like had he lived,_ Martyn thought sadly.

Ser Dain found Martyn in the stables. “Where will you go?” asked the young knight.

“North to the Wall,” Martyn said dryly as he led Owen out of the stables.

“You’re not thinking of joining the Nights watch?” Dain asked as he watched his friend ride away.

Martyn didn’t answer. _No, I need to go beyond the wall,_ he thought to himself as he rode north from Harrenhal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this story after I started writing a Brienne and Jaime fanfiction (Yes, I’m one of those) they find the Martyn Journal. I only got as far as Jaime reading the journal before I realized it was a separate story. This is the final chapter for now. I may write more if people want. Look for The whispers in the Snow, the Jamie/Brienne story coming soon.

**Author's Note:**

> The first thing I ever wrote so I hope you enjoyed the story please leave comments. Even constructive criticism will be appreciated.


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